University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


»  •--* 


WESTERN  WILDS, 


AND 


AN 


AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE, 


EMBRACING 


AN  ACCOUNT  OP  SEVEN  YEARS  TRAVEL  AND  ADVENTURE  IN  THE  FAR  WEST ; 
WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA ;  PERILS  OF  THE  PLAINS ;  LIFE  IN  THE  CANON  AND 
DEATH  ON  THE    DESERT;    THRILLING   SCENES   AND   ROMANTIC   INCI- 
DENTS  IN   THE    LIVES   OF  WESTERN    PIONEERS;    ADVENTURES 
AMONG   THE   RED    AND  WHITE   SAVAGES   OF   THE  WEST; 
A   FULL   ACCOUNT   OF   THE    MOUNTAIN   MEADOW 
MASSACRE ;  THE  CUSTER  DEFEAT ;  LIFE  AND 
DEATH   OF  BRIGHAM   YOUNG,    ETC. 

INCLUDING,    ALSO, 

AN  ELABORATE   HISTORY  AND  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  MINING  DISTRICTS  ;    AN   EXPERT 

DISCUSSION  OF  THE  SUBJECT  OF  MODERN    MINING  J   A  FULL   RESUME 

OF  MINING   MATTERS  AT   THE   OPENING  OF  1882. 


BY   J.   H.  BEADLE, 

Author  of  Life  in  Utah;  Western  Correspondent  Cincinnati  Commercial,  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


THE  JONES  BROTHERS   PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

CINCI  N  N  ATI,    O. 


COPYRIGHT,  1879,  BY  JOHN  T.  JONE& 


IN  writing  this  work  the  author  had  two  objects  in  view:  to  interest  the 
reader ;  and  to  tell  the  exact  truth  about  the  country  west  of  the  Mississippi. 
As  to  the  first,  there  is  neither  argument  nor  assertion;  the  reader  can  only 
judge  for  himself  after  perusal.  But,  as  to  the  second,  the  author  firmly 
believes  he  has  accomplished  it.  The  Far  West  is  an  immense  region,  and 
no  one  man  ever  visited  all  sections  of  it.  The  most  to  be  expected  is  that 
each  traveler  shall  seize  upon  the  salient  features  of  certain  portions,  and 
describe  them  in  popular  style.  I  have  labored  earnestly  to  give  facts  in 
regard  to  the  lands  still  open  to  settlement;  and  I  have  been  especially  care- 
ful to  correct  certain  errors  as  to  soil  and  climate  which  I  find  very  common 
in  the  East.  We  often  hear  it  confidently  asserted,  and  by  those  who  ought 
to  know,  that  "the  American  Desert  is  a  myth — there  is  no  desert  in  the 
West."  I  am  sorry  this  statement  is  not  true;  but  if  there  are  not  at  least 
300,000  square  miles  of  utterly  barren  land,  then  "mine  eyes  are  made  the 
fools  o'  the  other  senses,"  for  I  have  lived  and  traveled  many  a  week  where  not 
one  acre  in  a  hundred  is  fertile.  I  have  aimed  to  avoid  personalities,  but  I 
can  not  altogether  refrain  from  harsh  expressions  as  to  the  misstatements 
made  in  many  land  circulars ;  or  the  colored  falsehoods  of  many  maps,  made 
"to  invite  immigration." 

Some  critics  will  object  that  the  work  contains  rather  more  about  Utah 
and  the  Mormons  than  the  subject  warrants;  and  it  is,  perhaps,  but  natural 
that  one  should  write  at  length  on  that  which  most  interests  him.  But  I 
apprehend  this  Utah  question  is  one  on  which  Americans  generally  need 
information ;  it  is  liable  to  call  for  prompt  action  by  government  at  any  time, 
and  the  people  should  be  prepared  to  sustain  their  Kepresentatives  in  all 
constitutional  means  to  relieve  the  Nation  of  this  disgrace.  The  author  has 
been  accused  of  undue  prejudice  against  Brigham  Young  and  other  Mormon 
leaders;  more  space  is  therefore  given  to  the  legal  evidence  of  their  crimes 
than  is  usual  in  a  popular  work.  Eight  years  ago  I  hunted  up,  from  a  score  of 
sources,  the  facts  of  the  Mountain  Meadow  Massacre;  and,  when  published, 
there  was  a  loud  outcry  that  I  had  overdrawn  the  picture — "made  it  a 
newspaper  sensation."  I  here  present  the  testimony  of  witnesses  in  court, 

(iii) 


iv  PREFACE. 

sworn  and  cross-examined,  to  show  that  my  narrative  of  eight  years  ago  was 
by  far  too  mild;  that  in  every  charge  then  made  against  the  Mormon  Church 
I  was  within  the  truth.  Nor  do  I  admit  that  all  the  black  details  are  yet 
known.  Evidence  is  yet  to  be  developed  which  will  convince  the  most 
skeptical  that  Brigham  Young  was  the  accomplice  and  shield  of  murderers 
This  is  a  hard  saying,  but  rest  assured  it  will  be  proved. 

If  I  have  assumed  too  much  in  making  myself  an  advocate  for  the  political 
and  civil  rights  of  the  Gentile  minority  in  Utah,  that  minority  can  easily 
signify  the  same  to  their  friends  in  the  East  who  care  to  inquire.  The 
Americans  in  Utah  went  there  from  the  States,  and  did  not  change  their 
natures  when  they  changed  their  residence;  they  love  liberty,  and  desire  a 
share  in  the  local  government  for  the  same  reasons  they  did  in  the  East. 
They  have  fought  a  good  fight;  they  have  accomplished  much,  and  will  do 
more.  If  my  criticisms  upon  Gen.  Thomas  L.  Kane  and  other  apologists  for 
Brigham  appear  severe,  the  record  is  presented  to  show  their  errors.  Tht 
record  condemns  them — not  I.  Of  course  there  has  been  a  great  deal  of 
twaddle  and  romance  on  the  part  of  the  opponents  of  Mormonism — there 
always  is  in  matters  of  popular  discussion;  but  the  nearer  we  keep  tc 
admitted  facts,  the  more  clearly  we  see  that,  on  the  main  question,  they  ar( 
radically  right,  and  Brigham's  apologists  radically  wrong.  Polygamy  anc 
incest  are  admitted  and  defended  in  Utah;  and  it  is  a  fair  assumption  that 
men  who  violate  law  in  two  such  important  particulars,  will  violate  it  in 
others,  if  their  interest  seems  to  require  it.  But,  as  mere  inference  is  not 
enough  in  such  matters,  I  have,  as  aforesaid,  given  more  evidence  than  the 
aim  and  style  of  the  work  would  have  made  desirable. 

Five  million  Americans  expect  to  go  West.  There  should  be  a  new  work 
on  that  section,  written  by  some  careful  observer,  at  least  once  a  year;  for 
the  changes  there  are  many  and  rapid.  Doubtless  so  plain  a  presentation  of 
the  discouraging  features,  as  is  here  given,  will  have  a  depressing  effect  upon 
the  ardent;  but  it  is  best  to  know  the  truth.  There  is  not  as  much  room 
for  us  to  grow  in  that  direction  as  is  popularly  supposed,  and  Americans  can 
not  find  it  out  too  soon.  So  much  for  the  main  object  of  this  work — truth. 
As  to  the  interest  in  the  narrative — kind  reader,  excuse  me;  I  touch  your 
hand,  and  without  further  apology  introduce  you  to  MY  BOOK. 

J.  H.  B. 

COLUMBUS,  OHIO,  October  1, 1877. 


CONTENTS- 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   HAWKEYES. 

I  make  a  start. — Fair  Iowa. — Yankee,  Hoosier,  Buckeye,  and  Scandinavian. — The 
Aryan  wave. —  Hoosier  grammar. — Sorrows  of  the  non-resident  land-owner. — "The 
walled  lakes."— Greatness  of  the  Border  States. — "Hoss  high,  bull  strong,  and  pig 
tight."— The  'hoppers.— "Omahawgs"  and  "  Omahens."— "  Milkville  "  and  "  Bilkville."- 
Kural  Nebraska. — Agricultural  wealth. — Pawnees,  Otoes,  Omahaws. — The  Bedouin  in- 
stinct.— « Go  West."  •  ....  17-24 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  WESTERN   CHARACTER. 

Unsung  heroes. — Scenes  in  Southern  Kansas. — "Shuck  up." — " Fevernager." — My 
host's  story.— He  leaves  Tennessee  for  New  Orleans. — "Chawin'  rags  for  a  paper- 
mill." — Up  into  the  Cherokee  country. — Another  run  to  New  Orleans. — Walk  home 
through  the  "  Injun "  country. — Murder  of  Mclntosh  and  others. — War  between  the 
Rossites  and  Ridgeites. — Exposure  and  fever. — Delirium. — Rescued  by  the  "little 
Cherokee  girl." — Home  again. — Joe  and  Myra. — More  trouble  with  the  Cherokees. — 
Journey  to  Iowa. — In  danger  from  the  "  Danites." — Mrs.  Joe's  "  tantrums." — Captured 
by  the  Hawkeyes. — Interview  with  Judge  Lynch. — Horrible  murder  of  Miller  and 
Liecy. — Hanging  of  the  Hodges. — Terrible  times  on  the  Half-breed  Tract. — The  Califor- 
nia excitement. — Start  from  Independence. — Troubles  on  the  way. — Danger  and  death 
on  the  great  desert. — Among  the  gold  hunters. — More  murders. — Return  to  Tennessee. — 
The  great  war. — Death  of  the  boys. — Removal  to  Indian  Territory. — "Won't  there  be 
peace  while  I  live?" — Rest  at  last 25-44 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE  JOURNEY  TO  UTAH. 

Flush  times  in  Omaha. — Some  characters. — Will  Wylie's  escape. — "Seen  the 
Elephant." — "A  neck-tie  sociable." — "Coppered  on  the  jack." — Apostate  Mormons' 
caravan. — Up  the  slope  to  Cheyenne. — "  Dirty  Jule's." — The  Plains. — "  Magic  City." — 
Passage  of  the  Black  Hills. — Virginia  Dale. — Laramie  Plains. — Benton. — Alkali 
Desert. —  Evanescent  "cities." — Bear  River  City. —  Battle  with  the  roughs. — More 
Mormons. —  "Catfish  with  legs." — Horrors  of  Bitter  Creek.— Green  River. — Bridger 
Plains. — The  author  a  mule-whacker. — Grandeur  of  Echo  Canon. — Weber  Valley. — • 
Up  to  Parley's  Park. — Down  Parley's  Canon. — First  view  of  the  Salt  Lake. — "  City  of 

the  Saints." — I  become  a  Gentile  sinner 45-55 

(v) 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
GEFFROY'S  TRIALS. 

On  Griffith  Mountain,  Colorado. — "Are  we  the  authors  of  our  own  destiny?" — 
Geffrey's  narrative  answers. — Beautiful  Geneva. — Frenchy  fancies  vs.  German  phlegm. — 
A  young  enthusiast. — Hunting  the  Brotherhood  of  Man. — At  New  Harmony,  Indiana. — 
Failure  of  Communism. — At  Nauvoo. — At  Communia. — On  the  plains. — Enlist  with  the 
Texan  patriots  of  '43. — Bright  pictures. — Stern  realities. — "  The  Eiver  of  Souls." — The 
tierras  templadas. — In  the  Wild  Canon. — Posted  on  the  Taos  Trail. — Another  frightful 
march.— Down  to  the  Cimarron. — Another  trial  of  the  desert. — Night  attack  on  the 
Mexican  camp. — Victory,  followed  in  turn  by  flight. — Loss  of  the  horses. — Geffrey  and 
friend  go  after  them. — Surrounded  by  Mexicans. — A  dash  for  life. — Headlong  leap  into 
the  chasm. — Oblivion,  or  death? 56-71 

CHAPTER  V. 

DOLORES. 

Return  to  consciousness. — Laid  up  in  the  cabin. — Love  and  convalescence. — The 
captured  Americans.-  -Dolores'  plan. — The  parting. — Gomez  and  the  Pueblos. — Halt  at 
Jemez. — Meeting  the  Navajoes. — A  land  of  wonders. — Among  the  Moquis.- — A  simple, 
civil,  and  unwarlike  race. — A  race  without  envy  or  covetousness. — Joyful  meeting  with 
Dolores. — Los  Diabolos  Gringos. — Flight  for  the  north.- — Lost  on  the  desert. — The  horrors 
of  thirst. — Another  day  of  anguish. —  Life  in  the  rock. — "  With  our  lips  pressed  to  the 
rock  we  drew  new  life." — Hope  revived. — Pursuit  by  the  Mexicans. — Wounding  and 
death  of  Dolores. — Agony  of  GefFroy. — Enlists  as  a  soldier. — The  war  in  Mexico. — 
Revisits  Switzerland. — 1848:  the  year  of  Revolutions. — In  the  army  of  Baden. — 
Capture  and  long  imprisonment.  —  Liberty,  when  hope  was  dead. — Return  to  the 
Far  West. — "  The  Brotherhood  of  Man  comes  not  by  spasmodic  struggles,  but  by  steady 
toil." 72-89 

CHAPTER  VI. 

POLYGAMIA. 

I  meet  Brigham  &  Co. — Topography  of  his  kingdom. — I  reside  there  a  year. — And 
become  a  hated  Gentile. — Mormon  notabilities:  Brigham,  Orson  Pratt,  Hooper,  Geo.  A. 
Smith. — "The  One-eyed  Pirate  of  the  Wasatch." — Polygamy,  Bigamy,  Brighamy,  Mo- 
nogamy, and  other  gamies. — Utah  politics. — Noted  Gentiles. — Liberal  Mormons. — Credu- 
lous skeptics. — "  No  trade  with  non-Mormons." — Consequent  troubles. — Persecution  of 
dissenters. — Journey  to  Sevier. — Beauties  of  Pine  Gulch. — Return  to  "  Zion." — "  There's  a 
better  day  coming." — Religious  lying. — Perjury  "  for  Christ's  sake."  .  .  90-102 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE. 

"Westward  again. — Corinne. — Promontory. — Dead  Fall,  Murder  Gulch,  Last  Chance, 
and  Painted  Post. — "Do  me  a  favor:  shoot  me  through  the  head!" — Fine  morality  of 
the  gamblers. — The  Great  Nevada  Desert. — "  Sinks." — Up  the  Truckee. — State  Line. — 
Down  the  Sierras. — Wonders  of  Cape  Horn.— Sacramento. —  "  San  Jocykwinn." — Or  San 
Wahkeen?-~In  Yolo  County. — Davisville. — Chinese  and  silk  culture. — Tulcs. — Fruits 


CONTENTS.  vii 

and  wine. — Does  it  supersede  whisky? — The  California  seasons. — "Frisco." — Chinese 
Theater. — The  tragedy  of  Eip  Sah. — Buddhist  ceremonies. — A  gloomy  sort  of  religion.-. 
"  Top-side  Josh."— The  devil-drive.—"  Chinaman  like  Melica  man."  .  .  103-116 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

TWO  YEAKS  OF  CHANGE. 

Utah  and  trouble. — "Mormon  hospitality." — The  author  mohbed  and  badly  hurt, 
but  recovers  rapidly. — Healing  air  of  the  mountains. — Eich  mineral  discoveries  in 
Utah. — The  Gentiles  take  heart. — The  Emma  Mine.— I  go  to  Washington  as  a  lobbyist. — 
And  don't  like  it.— Further  travels  in  Utah.— Polygamy  again.— Eev.  J.  P.  Newman 
shows  that  there  are  but  thirteen  polygamists  mentioned  in  the  Bible. — And  hundreds 
of  good  monogamists. — Orson  Pratt  comes  back  at  him. — High  times  in  the  Taber- 
nacle.— Some  of  the  nasty  features  of  polygamy. — Such  as  incest  and  indecency. — A  vil- 
lage composed  of  Taylors. — And  one  made  up  of  Winns. — General  view  of  the  Terri- 
tory—And of  the  Far  West 117-128 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  MISSOURI  VALLEY. 

Kansas  City:  a  modern  Rome. — We  look  at  it,  but  do  not  invest. — The  "Land  of 
Zion."— Lawrence.— "  The  Wakarusa  War."— The  Massacre  of  1863.— The  Athens  of  the 
West. — Our  journey  southward:  The  Leavenworth,  Lawrence,  and  Galveston  Road. — 

Ottawa. — Western  Yankees. — "  Brother  K 's  blooded  mare.'' — "  Buffalo  stamps." — A 

progressive  country. — Fertility  of  Allen  and  Neosho  counties. — An  incorrigible  old 
man. — Cherryvale. — The  beautiful  mounds. — The  social  Kansian. — "  Sna-a-a-kes!" — 
Northward  to  Leavenworth. — Quindaro  Chindowan. — "A  second  Babylon." — Wyandotte. — 
Atchison. — Troy. — St.  Joe.  —  Up  the  Missouri  Valley. — Council  Bluffs.  —  Omaha. — 
On  northward. — Sioux  City. — Onawa. — Woodbury. — Staging  to  Yankton. — Dakotians: 
French,  Scandinavians,  and  Bohemians. — "Woman's  Rights:"  to  do  as  much  work  as 
she  can. — The  gentle  savage. — lapi  Oahye! — "  Portable  talk." — Northern  Dakota. — 
Western  Dakota. — We  leave  suddenly  for  California 129-139 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  WONDERS  OP  CALIFORNIA. 

All  aboard  for  Yosemite! — From  chilly  "Frisco"  to  melting  Stockton. — By  rail  to 
Milton. — Hot  drive  among  the  foot-hills. — Copperopolis. — The  broiling  stage;  air  dead 
calm;  thermometer  100°. — In  the  cool  grove  at  last. — The  vegetable  wonders  of  the 
world. — A  tree  thirty-two  feet  thick. — "  Father  and  Mother." — "  Husband  and  Wife," 
250  feet  high. — "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." — How  came  they  here? — California  names. — 
Over  Table  Mountain. —  "  Truthful  James." —  Old  mining  towns. —  Sonora. — Chinese 
Camp. —  Garrote. —  The  Tuolumne  Grove. —  Tamarack  Flat. —  Reminiscences  of  the 
"strong-minded." — First  view  of  Yosemite. — Prospect  Peak. — The  terrible  descent. — 
A  fall  of  2,667  feet. — El  Capitan:  Tu-toch-ah-nu-la. — A  reverie  on  Cosmos. — Mirror 
Lake. — Reflected  glories. — The  climb  to  Nevada  Falls. — Down  by  Vernal  Falls. — The 
sublime  and  beautiful. — J.  M.  Hutchings,  the  pioneer. — "  Spirit  of  the  Evil  Wind." — 
"  Great  Chief  of  the  Valley." — Down  hill  to  San  Francisco. — Climate  of  the  Coast. — 
A  day  at  the  Cliff  House. — Poluphlaisbow  Thalasses. — Regretful  good-bye  to  the  Pacific 
Coast.  .  .  140-163 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEE  XL 

UTAH   ARGENTIFERA. 

Gentiles  after  silver:  Mormons  after  the  Gentiles. — "  Revelations"  and  prospecting.— 
Up  Little  Cottonwood. — The  silver  lodes — Snow-slides. — 12,000  feet  above  the  sea. — Bald 
Peak,  and  a  view  of  20,000  square  miles. — Big  Cottonwood  Canon. — The  great  fire. — 
American  Fork  Canon:  the  Yosemite  of  Utah. — Mormon  farmers  vs.  Gentile  mountain- 
eers.— "  The  Republic  of  Tooele." — East  Canon  and  horn  silver. — Chloride  Cave. — Dry 
Canon. — Wild  times  in  the  West  Mountains. — A  Goshoot  feast. — I  start  to  Dugway. — 
And  get  lost  on  the  desert. — A  lonesome  night. — Danger  and  weariness. — Ninety  miles 
travel  in  twenty-seven  hours. — Independence  Day  on  Great  Salt  Lake. — "No  gulls 
in  Utah  before  the  Mormons  came." — Sailing  on  the  Lake. — Mines  in  southern 
Utah.— 'Beaver  City. — Mineral  wealth  of  the  Territory. — Shall  we  annex  Utah  to  Ne- 
vada?    164-181 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  CHAPTER  OF  BETWEENS. 

Joe  Allkire  talks. — Valley  tan  whisky  calls  up  reminiscences. — "  A  bad  streak  o' 
luck." — "  Sod-corn  barefooted." — Millerites. — ''  Misses  Chew  splits  the  choir." — The  grand 
dog-fight. — Which  broke  up  a  town. — "  That  yaller  and  spotted  dog." — Abraham  and 
the  preacher  clinch. — "  No  Morgan-killers  need  apply." — "  The  head  abolishinists." — Si 
Duvall's  luck. — Union  Flats  becomes  very  flat. — Other  reminiscences. — Men  who  had 
tried  many  fields. — Story  of  the  mountaineer. — Will  and  Bob  McAfee. — Camp  in 
Arkansas  Canon. — The  storm,  and  falling  timber. — Dreadful  alternative  of  the  un- 
wounded  brother. — He  "relieves"  the  other's  torture. — And  dies  of  grief  and  re- 
morse   182-193 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

OKLAHOMA. 

A  new  route  to  the  Pacific. — I  enter  the  Indian  Territory. — Vinita. — "  White  Chero- 
kees." — Cabin  Creek. — Mixed  bloods. — "It  comes  back  on  'em." — Christian  Indians. — 
Muscogee. —  Also  Muskokee. — The  Creeks  at  home. — Ala-bah-ma:  "Here  we  rest." — 
Natchees  and  Hitchitees. — An  Aboriginal  Democracy. — House  of  Kings  and  House  of 
Warriors. — Pahly  hohkohlen. — Tallahassee  Mission. — The  Muskokee  in  love. — "  Beautiful 
River." — Brad  Collins  and  his  gang. — Oklahoma  vs.  Okmulkee. — Red  hot  on  temper- 
ance.— In  the  Choctaw  country. — Tandy  Walker. — Among  the  Cherokees. — The  Big 
Rattling  Gourd  and  other  politicians. — Cherokee  history. — Civilized  Indians  of  the 
Territory. — What  shall  we  do  with  them?  ....  .  194-211 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

JOURNEY  TO  THE  RIO  GRANDE. 

Northward  again. — Out  on  the  Kansas  Pacific. — A  beautiful  country. — Ellsworth. — 
Carnival  of  crime  in  1867.— "Wild  Bill."— J.  H.  Runkle.— "Rake  Jake."— "Dad 
Smith." — "  Shall  we  have  a  man  for  breakfast?  " — Heroic,  but  murderous. — Bisons  and 
business. — Arrival  at  Denver. — Rest  and  enjoyment. — Southward  by  the  narrow-guage 
railway, — The  Divide. — Timbered  region. — Colorado  City — Take  stage-coach. — Pueblo.— 
Night  in  the  stage. — Cocharas. — The  sefloritas. — Another  day  of  staging. — Trinidad.— 
The  Raton  Mountains. — Down  upon  the  New  Mexican  side. — Wild  scenes. — Maxwell's 
Ranche. — Passage  of  the  Rocky  Ridge. — A  snow  storm  and  a  grizzly. — Down  to  Santa 


CONTENTS.  ix 

Fe. — Disappointed  with  the  city. — A  queer  old  town. — High-sounding  names. — Indian 
troubles. — Starting  for  Fort  Wingate. — La  Bajada. — Quien  Sabef — Pueblos  Indians. — 
Valley  of  the  Kio  Grande. — Albuquerque  — The  gente  fina. — The  "  Greasers." — Will 
they  ever  amount  to  any  thing  ? 212-229 

CHAPTEE  XV. 

TOLTECCAN. 

The  oldest  inhabitant. — Alvar  Nunez,  etc.,  traverses  New  Mexico. — What  he  saw 
and  how  he  lied  about  it. — "  The  Seven  Cities  of  Cibola." — Conquest  of  New  Mexico. — 
Revolt  of  the  Pueblos. — Second  Conquest. — High-toned  grandees. — Caste. — Sad  (?)  oc- 
currence.— Should  the  Territory  be  made  a  State? — Citizen  Indians. — Queer  old  cus- 
toms.— Parental  authority. — Enterprise. — The  universal  burro. — We  cross  the  Kio 
Grande. — And  enter  on  the  desert. — The  awful,  the  unutterable  desert. — Sufferings  from 
thirst. — Reach  "  Hog  River." — Dead  Man's  Canon. — Another  desert. — Oasis  of  El  Rito. — 
Degenerate  Spaniards. — Pueblo  de  Laguna. — An  Aztec  relic. — El  Cubero. — "Women's 
Rights." — Mala  Pais. — Agua  Azul. — The  extinct  volcano. — Drive  to  Fort  Wingate. — 
My  companion  comes  to  grief. — Ojo  del  oso. — Zuni. — Stinking  Springs. — The  Puerco  of 
the  West.— Down  to  Fort  Defiance. 230-248 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

WILD   LIFE  IN  ARIZONA. 

The  gathering. — Canon  Benito. — Handsome  Indian  girls. — Navajo  patience. — A 
mixed  tongue. — "  Slim-man-with-a-white-eye." — El-soo-see  En-now-lo-kyh. — "Big  Quill." 
— Murder  of  Agent  Miller. — Sorrow  of  the  Navajoes. — Their  kindness  and  courtesy. — Off 
for  a  trip. — My  Navajo  guide. — "  Tohh  klohh  no  mas." — Descent  into  Canon  de  Chelley. — 
Wonders  on  wonders. — The  "  cliff  cities." — Moonlight  in  the  canon. — Out  again  on  the 
desert. — An  awful  passage. — The  hot  alkali  plains. — Thirst  and  suffering. — "  Hah-koh, 
Melicano.'" — Approach  to  the  Moqui  towns. — Amazement  of  the  inhabitants. — The  city 
set  on  a  rock. — The  strangest  people  in  the  world. — Chino  and  Misiamtewah. — The  Mo- 
quis  welcome  me  gladly. 249-267 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

AMONG  THE  AZTECS. 

Topography  of  Arizona. — A  region  of  hot  sands  and  barren  mountains,  of  fierce 
savages  and  gentle  Indians,  of  rich  mines  and  wild,  forbidding  wastes. — The  Mesa  Ca- 
labasa. — Zunis,  Teguas,  Moquis,  Oraybes,  Papagoes,  Pimos,  and  Coco-Maricopas. — 
Rapid  decay  of  the  wild  tribes. — Noble  Navajoes. — Their  native  shrewdness,  industry 
and  bravery. — Who  are  they? — Aztecs? — Barboncito. — Ganado  Mucho. — Their  handi- 
work.— Their  temperance  and  endurance. — Life  at  Moqui. — "Ho,  Melicano,  messay  vo!" — 
Jesus  Papa. — Moqui  theology. — The  "white  Indians"  of  Arizona. — Ruins. — Aztec  or 
Toltec? — Comparison  with  mound-builders'  remains. — And  South  American  Ruins. 
— Only  a  theory. — Which  no  one  is  bound  to  accept 268-286 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FROM   MOQUI  TO  THE  COLORADO. 

Two  hundred  miles  of  desert. — Aboriginal  mail  service. — A  new  guide. — His  nd- 
soass. — Good-bye.  Chino! — -Journey  to  the  new  Navajo  camp. — "Damn  Espanol,  shteal 
mooch." — On  the  sandstone  mesa. — A  pleasant  party  of  four. — "  Todos  muerlos,  pero  mas 


x  CONTENTS. 

Apaches.'" — Another  sandstone  waste. — First  view  of  the  river,  5,000  feet  below  us. — 
Getting  down  the  cliff. — Water  and  salts. — At  the  river  at  last. — No  boats. — Perilous 
passage. — The  white  woman:  "My  God,  stranger,  did  you  risk  your  life  to  swim  that 
river?  " — The  Mormon  convert's  story. — Three  days  at  the  ferry. — Parting  from  my  Na- 
vajo  friends.  ...  287-300 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  STARTLING  INTERVIEW. 

I  meet  with  a  surprise. — "  Major  Doyle  "  proves  to  be  John  D.  Lee. — And  tells  me 
the  story  of  his  crime. — He  describes  the  events  leading  to  the  Mountain  Meadow 
Massacre. — Character  of  the  murdered  emigrants. — They  are  charged  with  being  ene- 
mies of  the  Mormon  people. — The  latter  incensed. — And  determined  on  revenge. — Did 
they  poison  the  spring? — Or  murder  friendly  Indians? — Outrage  on  Mrs.  Evans. — The 
Mormon  Council. — Death  of  the  emigrants  determined  upon. — The  closing  tragedy. — 
Lee's  excuses  and  subterfuges. — His  further  history. — A  story  horrible  enough  for  the 
most  inveterate  sensationalist. — I  bid  the  Lees  good-bye. — And  with  no  regrets.; — Grand 
canon  of  the  Colorado. — Bide  to  Jacob's  Pool. — Thence  to  Spring-in-Rock. — Lonely 
camping  out. — My  solitary  journey  to  Kanab. — The  Pi-Ede  band  of  savages. — "  Toh, 
agua,  water!" — Rest  at  Kanab. — Jacob  Hamlin. — The  Powell  party. — On  the  desert 
again. — Pipe  Springs. — Our  bishop  landlord. — Another  ride  over  rock  and  sand. — 
Gould's  Ranche. — Virgin  City. — Toquerville. — "  Mormon  Dixie." — At  Isaac  Haight's. — 
Kanarra. — Another  misfortune. — Ride  to  Parowan. — Little  Salt  Lake. — Arrive  at  Beaver. 
—Staging  thence  to  Salt  Lake  City.  .  . 301-316 

CHAPTER   XX. 

THE    FAIR   APOSTATE. 

English  homes. — Radical  and  Conservative ;  Chartist  and  Monarchist. — Coming  of 
the  Mormon  missionary. — Simple  lives  changed. — Voyage  to  America. — The  hand-cart 
emigration. — Frightful  sufferings  on  the  plains. — Death  on  all  sides. — Starved,  frozen, 
torn  by  the  wolves. — The  Old  Radical  finds  the  Brotherhood  of  Man. — A  young  hero. — 
Willie  Manson  concludes  to  go  West. — Journeys  thro'  Illinois  and  Iowa. — Meets  a  queer 
party. — The  year  1857.— His  sufferings. — At  Camp  Floyd. — Goes  to  the  city. — Sickness 
and  fever. — A  familiar  face  by  his  pillow 317-331 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   FAIR   APOSTATE — CONTINUED. 

Hot  times  in  "Zion." — "The  Reformation." — Arrival  of  the  hand-cart  emigrants. — 
An  epidemic  madness. — Horrible  reign  of  lust  and  fanaticism. — United  States  officials 
driven  out. — Mormon  war  begun. — Skill  and  daring  of  Mormon  guerrillas. — But  the 
Gentile  army  enters  the  Valley. — 30,000  Mormons  move  south. — But  return  and  submit 
peaceably. — Willie  Manson's  new  friends. — More  apostates. — John  Banks  and  Thomas 
James. — Little  Marian  becomes  Miss  Marian. — And  Manson  does  not  understand  the 
change. — In  his  perplexity  he  hears  doctrine. — And  reproof. — But  hardens  his  heart. — 
A  new  prophet. — Joseph  Morris. — Morrisite  Camp  on  the  Weber. — Attacked  and  broken 
up  by  the  Brighamites. — Murder  of  the  women. — Barbarous  killing  of  Morris  and 
Banks. — Flight  of  Thomas  James. — Exhausted,  he  lies  down  to  die. — Beatty  and  Man- 
son  off  for  Montana. — Relieve  James. — War  with  the  Bannocks. — Desperate  encounters. 
— Four  years  amid  the  gold  fields. — Manson  becomes  a  man! — The  friends  hear  that  all 
is  peace  in  Utah. — And  together  return  to  "  Zion." 332-347 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION. 

Bright  days  in  Cache  Valley. — A  brother  and  a  sister  restored  to  fellowship* — 
Thomas  James  is  again  happy  with  Christina. — But  he  is  a  bishop's  rival,  and  that 
means  danger. — "Blood  atonement." — A  nameless  horror. — The  man  becomes  a  creature. 
— Manson  perplexed. — "Keep  your  eye  peeled;  this  is  a  queer  country." — Red-hot  dis- 
cussion of  polygamy. — News  from  James;  which  is  no  news. — Anti-Gentile  Philippics. — 
Manson  meets  Marian. — A  good  outcome  at  last. — Astonishing  conduct  of  Elder  Bri- 
arly. — Mystery  added  to  mystery. — Another  Gentile  panic. — Murder  of  Brassfield. — Out- 
rages on  Gentile  settlers. — Murder  of  Dr.  Robinson. — Flight  of  the  Gentile  pre-emptors. — 
Sad  fate  of  Thomas  James. — Bishop  Warren  has  his  reward. — But  heaven  is  kinder  to 
Christina  than  her  own  people. — She  finds  release  in  death. — Briarly  flies  from  the 
Territory. — Marian  and  Manson. — Their  Iowa  home. — But  Utah  is  the  home  of  the 
soul. — And  President  Grant  has  given  us  hope. — Hank  Beatty's  crime. — Death  of  his 
wife. — The  Mansons  return  to  Utah. — As  their  troubles  ended  with  a  marriage,  their 
future  state  is  left  to  faith 348-370 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

SWINGING  'ROUND  THE  CIRCLE. 

Off  for  Soda  Springs. — A  land  of  wonders. — A  chemical  laboratory  ten  miles 
square. — Soda  by  the  ton:  to  be  had  for  the  taking. — The  "Morrisites"  again. — A  lit- 
tle run  eastward. — Denver. — Lawrence. — St.  Louis. — A  day  in  Nauvoo:  "Destined  cap- 
ital of  a  religious  empire." — To  the  new  North-west. — Yankton. — Assassination  of 
Secretary  McCook. — Steamboating  on  the  Missouri. — Sioux  City  again. — Enterprising, 
but  sensational. — Off  for  Minnesota. — We  enter  the  Garden  State.  .  .  371-378 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MINNESOTA. 

Reminiscences  of  1859. — The  Bois  Brules. — Full-blood  Chippeways. — Minnesota 
pineries. — The  Red  Napoleon  of  the  North-west. — "  Hard  times  "  in  1859. — I  live  on 
corn-bread,  hoe  corn,  and  cultivate  muscle. — Better  times. — Sioux  war  of  1862. — Blue- 
earth  County. — Mankato. — Journey  to  St.  Paul. — Topography. — St.  Anthony's  Fall* — 
Minnehaha. — Journey  to  Sauk  Rapids. — Staging  thence  northward. — Belle  Prairia — 
Catholic  outposts. — Crow  Wing. — Black  Pine  Forest. — Brainard. — Breaking  up  the  Sab- 
bath.— A  Chippeway  dance. — Out  on  the  North  Pacific  R.  R. — The  barren  region. — 
Down  to  Red  River. — Moorehead. — Navigation  to  British  America. — Fargo. — Westward 
by  construction  train. — Dakota's  Salt  Lake. — Jimtown. — Eastward  again. — The  lake 
region. — Scenery  on  the  St.  Louis  River. — Among  the  Scandinavians. — "  Postoff." — Jay 
Cooke's  Banana  Zone 379-389 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  WAY  TO  OREGON. 

"  Let  us  try  the  web-feet." — Through  Iowa. — Westward  from  Omaha, — Changes  of 
four  years. — My  fourteenth  trip  over  the  Union  Pacific. — More  trouble  in  Utah. — Across 
the  Sierras  again. — Up  the  Sacramento. — Gen.  John  Bidwell's  ranche. — Grapes,  figs, 
apples,  and  lemons  in  November. — Reading. — Walk-in  Miller's  squaw. — His  life  in 
jail. — Great  forests  of  the  upper  Sacramento. — Six  Cailloux. — "Sleeping  Dictionary." — 
Yreka. — Over  the  mountains. — Klamath  River. — Cow  Creek. — South  Umpqua. — Rose- 


xn  CONTENTS. 

burgh. — Oregon  and  California  Railroad. — Down  the  Willamette. — "  Beaver  Lands." — In 
Portland. — "Such  a  fog!" — "John  Chinaman." — First-class  funerals  needed. — "Web- 
feet"  maidens. — Shall  we  go  home  by  sea? — Down  the  Columbia  by  steamer. — "High 
sea  running." — "Oh,  my  head,  my  stomach!  O-o-o!  " — The  boat  goes  on  end. — The 
land-lubbers  fall  on  all  sides. — Better  weather. — "  On  an  even  keel." — Beauties  of  the 
Pacific. — Cape  Mendocino. — The  Golden  Gate. — Once  more  on  terra  firma.  390-405 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

LAS  TEXAS  Y  LOS  TEJANOS. 

"  G.  T.  T."— Bad  reputation.—"  You  may  go  to  hell,  and  I'll  go  to  Texas."— The 
author  finds  things  improved. — Through  the  Indian  Territory. — Red  River. — Deni- 
son. —  "Nohth  Fohk." — Healthy  region. —  "The  spiral  maginnis"  or  "  De  menin- 
jeesus." — At  Sherman. — Down  Main  Trinity. — Travels  in  Collin  County. — The  Cotton 
Belt. — In  Ellis  County. — Navarro  and  Corsicana. — Insects  and  other  sects. — "A  thou- 
sand and  forty-four  legs." — Through  Central  Texas  to  Houston. — Buffalo  Bayou. — De- 
lightful ride  to  Galveston. — Celebration  of  San  Jacinto. — "  Brave  Texan  :  bravest  man 
in  the  South,  sah!" — Delights  of  the  Galveston  beach. — Beauties  of  the  island. — Up 
country. — The  land  of  border  romance. — Bob  Rock  and  his  brown  mestiza. —  Hon. 
"Shack"  Roberts. — Some  political  notes. — A  tolerant  and  liberal  State.  406-418 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HISTORY   AND  DESCRIPTION   OF  TEXAS. 

La  Salle. — First  Settlement  on  the  coast. — Origin  of  the  border  question. — Murder 
of  La  Salle. — The  murderers  murdered. — The  missions. — Indios  reducidos. — "  Reduced  " 
by  prayer  and  fasting. — The  "  men  of  reason." — War  between  the  French  and  Spanish. — • 
Massacre  of  San  Saba. — Decline  of  the  Missions. — Louisiana  ceded  to  Spain. — Better 
times  in  Texas. — Louisiana  ceded  back  to  France. — The  border  question  again. — The 
United  States  takes  a  hand. — Fearful  murders  and  robberies. — Magee's  expedition. — Des- 
perate battle. — Magee  kills  himself. — Surrender  of  his  army. — They  are  barbarously 
massacred  by  the  Spaniards. — Revolution  in  Mexico. — More  trouble  in  Texas. — Moses 
and  Stephen  Austin. — Oppression  of  the  Texans. — Revolution. — Heroic  defense  of  the 
Alamo. — Fannin's  command  butchered. — Glorious  victory  of  San  Jacinto. — Independence 
and  subsequent  events. — Descriptive  sketch  of  the  State.  ....  419-43? 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

KANSAS  REVISITED. 

Through  the  new  counties. — "Hard  times." — The  Grangers'  War. — Woman  suf 
frage. — Allen  County. — Neosho. — Labette. — The  Bender  murderers. — Their  real  fate.—1 
Coffeyville. — Ten  square  miles  of  cattle! — "Not  a  good  year  for  stock,  either." — The 
cattle  trails. —  Montgomery  County. —  Kansas  politics. — The  Osage  diminished  Re- 
serve.— Independence  City. — Elk  River. — Wilson  County. — Neodesha. — Kansas  cotton. — 
Into  the  mound  region. — Westward,  ho! — Among  the  flint  hills. — South-western  Kansas. 
—General  view  of  the  State ....  432-446 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

COLORADO. 

Westward  again. — 1874. — Disappearance  of  the  buffalo. — Reach  Denver. — A  long 
rest. — Narrow-guage  for  Georgetown. — The  sublime  and  beautiful  in  Clear  Creek 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

Canon. — Floyd  Hill. — Stage  to  Idaho  Springs. —  To  Georgetown. — 2,000  miners. — But 
where  are  the  women? — High  climbs. — Cool  retreats. —  Independence  Day  on  the 
summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. — Snow  banks  and  iced  brooks. — Beauties  of  the 
upper  parks. — Drive  to  Gray's  Peak. — The  September  storm. — Climb  through  snow 
and  ice. — 14,400  feet  above  the  sea. — And  a  fearful  snow-storm  in  summer. — Down 
to  Denver. — Up  to  Caribou. — Wild  beauty  of  Boulder  Canon  and  Falls. — The  rich 
silver  lodes. — On  the  plains  again. — Bide  to  Greeley  and  Evans.  447-469 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE. 

Coronado. — Mythologic  age  of  Colorado. — Pike  sees  his  Peak. — The  hunters  and 
trappers. —  Bloody  encounters. —  Love,  treachery,  and  retribution.— Gold! — The  great 
rush. — "  Pike's  Peak." — Society  takes  shape. — Miners'  laws. — People's  courts. — Attempts 
at  a  Territory. — Successful  at  last:  the  38th  State. — Our  life  in  Georgetown. — Griffith 
Mountain. —  "  The  Holy  Cross." — Rich  silver  mines. —  The  Dives-Pelican  Lode. — 
Curiosities  of  mining. — "  Sam  Wann,"  or  Juan. — Silver  by  millions. — Southern  Colo- 
rado.—The  White  Desert.— Possibilities  of  the  new  State.  .  .  .  470-489 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   MORMON   MURDERERS. 

Another  year  in  Utah. — Capture  of  John  D.  Lee. — His  awful  crime. — Mormon 
madness  in  1857. — Assassination  of  Parley  P.  Pratt. — The  doomed  emigrants  pass 
Salt  Lake  City. — Are  harassed  as  they  go  south. — Attacked  and  besieged. — Surrender  to 
Lee  and  others. — A  plot  hatched  in  hell. — The  demon  Higby  gives  the  signal. — Fearful 
scenes  of  blood. — One  hundred  and  thirty-one  Americans  fall  victims  to  Mormon 
malice! — And  the  Governor  of  Utah  "never  heard  of  it!" — Brigham  certifies  to  a 
falsehood. — And  swears  to  another. — Strange  chain  of  events  leading  to  discovery. — Lee 
brought  to  trial. — Shameful  farce  of  selecting  jurymen. — A  black  case  made  out. — 
Brigham's  remarkable  deposition. 490-511 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTY  ? 

Astonishing  conduct  of  Mormon  jurymen. — They  refuse  to  convict. — But  the  Mor- 
mon Church  can  not  afford  to  sustain  Lee  any  longer. — They  decide  to  give  him  up. — 
Another  trial  in  1876. — And  a  Mormon  jury  convict  Lee. — Sentence  pronounced  by  Judge 
Boreman. — Appeal. — Date  of  execution  postponed  to  March,  1877. — Executed  upon  the 
very  spot  of  his  crime. — Lee's  final  and  complete  confession. — His  last  words. — His 
peaceful  and  heroic  death. — Was  Brigham  Young  guilty? — Brigham's  apologists. — 
Captain  John  Codman,  Geo.  Q.  Cannon,  Gen.  Thomas  L.  Kane.  .  .  512-530 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN. 

The  tragedy  of  June  25th,  1876.— Sketch  of  Custer's  life.— Hancock's  campaign.— 
Custer's  first  Indian  fight.— Massacre  of  Lieutenant  Kidder  and  party. — Sully's  cam- 
paign.— Custer's  Washita  campaign. — Yellowstone  expedition.— Murder  of  Honzinger 
and  Baliran. — Arrest  and  escape  of  Rain-in-the-Face.— Black  Hills  expedition. — Gold. 
— Events  of  1875.— Campaign  of  1876  against  Sitting  Bull  and  Crazy  Horse.— Custer  in 
disgrace  at  headquarters. — Descent  on  the  hostile  camp.— The  bloody  ending. — Sitting 
Bull  goes  to  Canada,  and  Crazy  Horse  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds — perhaps.  531-557 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

PROSPECTING  AND  MINING. 

"Hoodoo"  mines. — Where  not  to  look. — Geological  formation  of  Mississippi  Valley. 
— Into  the  mountains. — Looking  for  "  float." — The  amusing  "  pilgrim." — We  find  a  "  blos- 
som."— And  post  a  notice. — Searching  for  "  indications." — Proportion  of  metal  found  in 
ore. — We  have  found  a  mine. — Taking  out  a  United  States  Patent. — Counter  claimants. 
—Summary  of  mining  laws 558-567 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES. 

Leadville,  the  Magic  City. — From  Hoosierdom  to  Denver. — Greenhorn  Range. — The 
Royal  Gorge. — Railroad  enterprise. — Good  spelling  and  bad  pronunciation. — Grand 
scenery. — An  artificial  thaw. — Geological  formation  of  Arkansas  Valley. — Haphazard 
prospecting. — Yield  of  Leadville  mines  in  1880. —Future  possibilities. — The  romance 
cf  Leadville. — Early  discoveries. — The  big  strikes. — Sudden  wealth  and  fast  life. — A 
business  of  $18,000,000  a  year. — The  Grand  Smelter. — An  expert  examination  of  ores. 
— The  ides,  the  ets,  and  the  ates. — Influence  of  mines  on  a  locality.  .  .  568-585 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MINING   IN   1882. 

The  trans-continental  railways. — The  Wild  West  abolished. — Railway  development 
in  New  Mexico. — The  Desert. — The  Casas  Grandas  ruins. — The  great  Silver  King  mine. 
— Globe  City. — Rough  roads  and  alkali  dust. — Tombstone. — The  mining  interests. — Fu- 
ture prospects. — A  view  of  Arizona  — New  Mexico  and  Colorado. — Silver  Cliff  and  Rosita. 
— Peculiar  geological  formation. — Increase  in  population  of  Colorado. — Denver. — The 
Black  Hills. — Annual  metal  product  of  Colorado. — Natural  wealth  of  the  West.  586-596 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE   DEAD   PROPHET. 

Brigham  dies. — His  history. — "  Hard  working  Brigham  Young." — The  Kirtland 
folly.— Brigham  carries  a  level  head. — Building  upNauvoo. — Martha  Brotherton  "blabs." 
— Hot  water. — "Spiritual  wifery"  introduced. — "Persecution." — Death  of  Joe  Smith. — 
Head  of  the  Twelve  Apostles. — Journey  to  Salt  Lake  Valley. — Trouble  with  the  United 
States. — As  a  marrying  man. — His  wives:  Mary  Ann,  Lucy,  Clara,  Emmeline,  Amelia, 
and  others. — An  extensive  parent. — Division  of  his  estate. — John  Taylor  comes  into  an 
easy  succession. — Collapse  of  Brigham's  great  plans. — A  discussion  of  the  problem  of 
Mormonism. — Declining. — Moral  storm  approaching. — Then  comes  a  better  day.  597-610 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

WHERE  SHALL  WE  SETTLE? 

Go  West! — Southern  Minnesota. — Iowa. — Southern  Dakota. — Nebraska. — Kansas. 
— The  Indian  Territory. — No! — Texas. — Don't  believe  all  you  hear! — The  Indian  bor- 
der.— California:  Land  monopoly. — Oregon. — Climate  and  soil. — "The  Great  American 
Desert." — Probable  population  in  1900. — Where  is  the  surplus  population  to  go? — Good 
land  pretty  well  occupied. — What  will  be  the  result? — Western  Wilds  will  continue  wild 
for  a  centurv  to  come.  611-628 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

MAP  OF  ABORIGINAL  AMERICA FRONTISPIECE 

The  non-resident  tax-payer  19 

"  Our  liberties,  sir  " 21 

"Civilized" 24 

"  Thoroughly  acclimated  " 26 

"  I  hunted  the  pipe-works  " 29 

Mrs.  Joe's  "  tantrums  " 35 

"  Made  music  all  day  " 40 

His  last  chance 45 

"  Laying  on  of  hands  " 47 

"  The  good  old  time  " 49 

"  Only  a  memory  " 51 

Pulpit  Rock :  Echo  Canon 54 

The  Great  Salt  Lake 55 

On  the  slope  of  Griffith  Mountain        .  56 

To  the  rendezvous 62 

Cafioii  de   las  Animas 65 

Getting  down  to  the  Cimarron 67 

For  life  or  death 71 

"  Some  one  came  forward  holding  a  cup  " 73 

"  The  Mexicans  saw  no  way  " 74 

"Dolores  fainted  in  my  arms-" 81 

"  The  balls  whitff  -cl  around  us" 85 

Brigham   Young 90 

Orson  Pratt 91 

George  A.  Smith 92 

Brigham 's  Residences 95 

Humboldt  Palisades 105. 

Seven  thousand  feet  above  the  sea 107 

Cape  Horn 108 

California  Agricultural  Report 1 

Barbary  Coast :  San  Francisco 115 

"  Bodaciously  chawed  up  " 118 

Mormon  wives  for  summer  and  winter 121 

Great  expectations 135 

Dakotas  torturing  a  Pawnee 138 

The  two  guardsmen 141 

The  Fallen  Monarch 142 

Something  of  a  stump 143 

A  monster 145 

Yosemite  Falls 147 

El  Capitan 149 

Bridal  Veil  Fall    . 152 

Sentinel  Rock 155 

North  Dome  and  Royal  Arches 157 

Nevada  Falls 159 

Vernal  Palls 160 

Mirror  Lake 161 

Mormon  Militia 165 

Chloride  Cave,  Lion  Hill 171 

Goshoot  Love-feast 173 

Lost  on  the  Desert 176 

Deacon  Chew 183 

"  They  broke  loose  and  lit  out  down  the  street  " 184 

"  And  they  clinched  " 185 

"  Half  the  town  took  ashy  at  him" 186 

The  Seat  of  War 187 

"Where  warring  tribes  met  in  peace" 1&9 

Fine  field  for  the  ethnologist 195 

"  Slem-lem-an-dah-mouch-wah-ger  " 201 

(xv) 


xvi  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

"Go  West" 211 

Wild  Bill 2J3 

"  Scattering  leaden  death  on  all  sides  " 214 

"  Divide  Hotel  and  Ranche " 216 

"  Suggested  wild  beasts  and  banditti  " 220 

The  ambush  and  running  fight 225 

Pueblo  Maiden 230 

Kit  Carson 234 

Pueblo  Cacique ' 235 

"  Woman's  Bights  " 242 

Coming  to  the  "  count " 249 

On  the  Mesa  Calabasa 269 

"  Converted  on  the  spot " 271 

Navajo  Loom 2V3 

Aztec  Priest  and  Warrior 284 

Down  the  Cliff 294 

Climbing  for  water 295 

Mouth  of  Pahreah  Creek 301 

Head  of  the  Grand  Canon 304 

"Three  little  Injuns" 312 

APi-EdeCeres 313 

Winter  camp  of  Goshoots 325 

Scenes  on  the  Colorado  Plateau .  330 

"  Dashed  across  the  burning  plain  " 335 

Thomas  James  kills  the  Bannock 346 

"Behold  our  Lamanite  Brother" 356 

"  Let  me  look  toward  old  England  before  I  die  " 367 

"  Willie  has  struck  chloride  " 369 

Shoshonees  with  annuity  goods     .       .       .       . 372 

Burning  of  the  Mormon  Temple 375 

Killing  of  Secretary  McCook 377 

Pembina  people  and  ox-carts 379 

Winter  in  Minnesota  pineries 380 

Minnehaha  in  winter 385 

Dalles  of  St.  Louis  River 389 

Blue  Canon,  Sierra  Nevada 391 

Cotillion  on  the  stump  of  the  mammoth  tree 394 

View  in  the  Modoc  country .       .  396 

Rapids,  Upper  Columbia  .                            402 

Cape  Mendocino 404 

Comanche  warrior 410 

"  I  spiled  his  aim  " 416 

Un  Indio  Bravo 421 

Texas  and  Coahuila  in  1830 426 

General  Sam  Houston 428 

"  Droughty  Kansas  " 433 

"  Good  Osage— Heap  good  Injun  " 440 

Affluent  of  Clear  Creek 449 

South-west  from  Gray's  Peak .461 

Deadly  combat  of  Vaughn  and  La  Bonte 474 

Toiling  up  Griffith  Mountain 480 

Capture  of  John  D.  Lee 491 

Mountain  Meadow    Massacre ' 498 

Salt  Lake  City,  1857 513 

Execution  of  John  D.  Lee 525 

The  Noble  Red  Man 581 

Scene  of  Sioux  War  of  1876 533 

"Busted" 534 

Custer's  first  Indian  Fight 536 

Rude  Surgery  of  the  Plains 541 

Night  Scene  in  the  Canon 571 

A  new  Mining  Town 578 

Cape  Horn  and  Rail-road,  Sierra  Nevada 588 

"  Giantess,"  Big  Geyser  of  the  Yellowstone 594 

The  Mormon  Tabernacle 605 

Fort  Massachusetts,  New  Mexico,  1855 620 

The  Prospector's  Peril 624 


WESTERN  WILDS, 


THE   MEN   WHO    REDEEM   THEM. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE    HAWKEYES. 

THE  rolling  prairies  of  Iowa  were  taking  on  their  richest  summer 
hues  when  I  crossed  from  Prairie  du  Chien  to  McGregor,  the  first 
of  June,  1868,  and  entered  upon  a  three  hundred  mile  walk  across  the 
State.  The  "  Land  of  the  Sleepy,"  as  the  aboriginal  name  implies,  was 
just  then  the  land  of  men  particularly  wide  awake  to  their  own  inter- 
ests. I  was  but  one  of  a  grand  army  ever  pushing  westward — active, 
aggressive,  and  defiant  of  space  and  time.  Iowa  combined  the  advan- 
tages of  both  East  and  West,  and  men  of  all  North-European  races 
were  crowding  to  possess  it. 

There  was  the  Yankee,  moving  on  with  that  resistless  energy  which 
distinguishes  the  emigrant  from  our  "  Dorian  Hive."  More  rarely  ap- 
peared the  "  Buckeye  "  and  "  Hoosier  ;"  their  route  was  a  little  farther 
south,  for  emigration  pays  some  attention  to  isothermal  lines,  and  as  a 
rule  older  States  settle  the  new  States  directly  west  of  them.  There 
was  the  blonde  Swede,  tall  and  sinewy,  his  blue  eye  lighting  cheerfully 
at  sight  of  such  landed  wealth,  in  a  clime  a  little  milder  than  his  own. 
Dane  and  Norwegian  were  also  hurrying  into  north-western  Iowa  and 
southern  Dakota.  All  these  Scandinavian  races  are  rarely  seen  south 
of  latitude  40°,  but  fill  whole  townships  in  our  new  North-west. 
Dutch,  Irish,  Swiss,  and  North  Germans  contributed  each  a  small 
quota.  One  might  have  fancied  himself  borne  forward  on  the  crest  of 
that  great  Aryan  wave  which  rolled  westward  and  northward  from  Ba- 
bel's plains.  Four  years  after  I  found  many  of  these  emigrants  in  Da- 
kota; already  at  home  upon  well-improved  farms,  and  surrounded  with 

most  of  the  comforts  of  life. 

2  <17> 


18  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Iowa  and  Minnesota  were  doubtless  settled  by  the  best  class  of  im- 
migrants that  ever  left  the  East.  Their  laws  are  favorable,  their  insti- 
tutions progressive.  Born  republicans,  these  new-comers  fell,  by  nat- 
ural law,  into  free  and  progressive  commonwealths.  At  first  view  one 
would  say  that  our  mother  English  was  in  danger  of  being  lost,  and 
that  a  new  language  would,  ere  long,  rise  in  these  mixed  communities. 
But  English  is  the  language  of  progress,  and  that  tongue  in  which  laws 
are  written  and  courts  conducted  will  in  time  become  the  ver- 
nacular of  any  new  country.  In  no  part  of  America  is  a  purer  English 
spoken.  The  native  of  Indiana  finds,  when  settled  beside  the  Yankee, 
that  he  must  drop  some  of  his  "  Hoosierisms ;"  while  the  accent  and 
idiom  brought  from  "  Down  East "  are  insensibly  modified,  till  the 
children  of  both  compromise  on  the  written  language.  Two  hundred 
years  ago  when  a  man  spoke  in  the  British  Parliament  it  was  known 
on  the  instant  what  shire  he  represented ;  travel  and  civilization  have 
since  made  the  cultured  Northumbrian  and  East  Angle  to  be  of  one 
speech. 

No  grammar  of  the  "  Hoosier  "  language  has  ever  been  published. 
Before  it  becomes  extinct,  as  have  so  many  dialects,  it  may  be  well  for 
one  who  spoke  it  in  his  childhood  to  fix  a  few  of  its  idioms.  It  abounds 
in  negatives.  Unlike  English  and  Latin,  an  abundance  of  negatives 
is  held  to  strengthen  the  sentence.  "Don't  know  nothing"  is  com- 
mon. "  See  here,"  says  the  native,  looking  for  work,  to  the  farmer, 
"  you  don't  know  o'  nobody  what  don't  want  to  hire  nobody  to  do 
nothin'  nowhere  around  here,  don't  you?"  "No,"  is  the  reply,  "I 
don't."  "  I  reckon  "  is  a  fair  offset  for  the  Yankee  "  I  guess  " — the  one, 
as>  commonly  used,  about  as  reasonable  as  the  other.  But  it  is  on  the 
verb  to  do  that  the  "  Hoosier  "  tongue  is  most  effective.  Here  is  the 
ordinary  conjugation : 

Present  Tense. — Regular,  as  in  English. 

Imperfect  Tense. — I  done  it,  you  done  it,  he  done  it.  Plural — We  'uns 
done  it,  you  'uns  done  it,  they  'uns  done  it. 

Perfect  Tense. — I  gone  done  it,  you  gone  done  it,  he  gone  done  it. 
Plural — We  'uns  gone  done  it,  you  'uns  gone  done  it,  they  'uns  gone 
done  it. 

Pluperfect. — I  bin  gone  done  it,  you  bin  gone  done  it,  etc. 

First  Future. — I  gwine  to  do  it,  you  gwine  to  do  it,  etc. 

Second  Future. — I  gwine  to  gone  done  it,  etc.  Plural — We  'uns 
gwine  to  gone  done  it,  you  'uns  gwine  to  gone  done  it,  they  'uns  gwine 
to  gone  done  it. 

Philologically  this  language  is  the  result  of  a  union  between  the  rude 


THE  HAWKEYES.  19 

translations  of  "  Pennsylvania  Dutch,"  the  negroisms  of  Kentucky  and 
Virginia,  and  certain  phrases  native  to  the  Ohio  Valley;  and  in  my 
boyhood  I  often  heard  it  verbatim  as  here  given. 

The  Iowa  pioneers  had  developed  a  marked  faculty  for  taking  care  of 
themselves,  and  making  the  non-resident  owner  of  real  estate  help  de- 
velop the  country.  Three-fourths  of  the  taxation  was  laid  upon  land, 
chattels  being  almost  exempt ;  and,  in  the  valuation,  no  distinction  was 
made  between  slough  and  upland,  vacant  and  improved.  Villages, 
where,  there  was  much  non-resident  property,  were  generally  well  im- 
proved; and  the  side-walks  were  always  best  before  the  non- 
resident's lots,  direct  taxation  being  in  the  same  ratio.  If  he  did 
not  come  out  and  enjoy  the  promenade  he  had  paid  for, 
it  was  his  own  fault.  The  school  laws  of  Iowa  are  sur- 
prisingly liberal  in  this  respect,  allowing  a  school  in 
every  township  or  district  where  there  are  six  children. 
The  citizens  have  the  right  to  organize  a  school  district 
as  they  will,  regardless  of  their  number.  One  worthy 
in  Wright  County,  finding  himself,  wife  and  seven  chil- 
dren to  be  the  only  inhabitants  of  the  township,  forth- 
with called  a  school  meeting,  notices  being  posted  ac- 
cording to  law,  elected  himself  director,  fitted  up  one 
room  in  his  dwelling  for  a  school,  and  employed  his  THE  NON-RESIDENT 
oldest  daughter  to  teach  the  other  six  children.  Thus 
he  gave  character  to  the  settlement,  and  raised  the  money  to  im- 
prove his  farm  by  simple  compliance  with  the' law.  And  do  such  a 
people  require  Congressional  protection  from  the  bond-holders  and 
grasping  monopolists  of  the  East? 

At  the  end  of  a  week's  leisurely  travel,  I  was  eighty  miles  from  the 
Mississippi,  and  the  appearance  of  the  country  had  greatly  changed. 
There  were  vast  tracts  of  unsettled  prairie ;  timber  had  grown  scarcer ; 
cultivated  farms  were  rare,  and  just  as  the  space  between  them  increased 
the  people  grew  warmer  in  their  welcome.  I  was  now  away  from  the 
main  line  of  emigration;  and  families  in  out-of-the-way  places  are 
nearly  always  hospitable.  The  chance  traveler  is  as  good  as  a  newspaper, 
and  is  apt  to  be  put  to  press  on  arrival.  I  soon  learned  to  dread  the 
wooded  vales  along  the  larger  streams  on  account  of  the  heat.  To  leave 
the  high  prairie  for  the  "  bottom  "  was  like  going  from  balmy  May  to 
sultry  July.  Regions  where  there  is  much  wind  are  generally  health- 
ful; but  when  the  wind  falls  one  is  liable  to  fall  with  it.  There  are  no 
hotter  districts  in  the  Union  than  Iowa  and  Minnesota  during  those 
very  brief  periods  in  summer  when  a  dead  calm  prevails.  Though  I 


20  WESTERN   WILDS. 

had  started  an  invalid,  every  day's  walk  made  it  easy  to  walk  a  little 
farther  the  next;  and  at  the  end  of  the  second  week  I  easily  made 
twenty  miles  a  day.  If  a  man  would  be  cured  by  nature,  he  must  trust 
her — be  taken  to  her  bosom,  as  it  were.  Many  an  invalid  goes  West 
for  health,  and  imagines  the  climate  has  cured  him,  when,  in  truth,  he 
has  only  forgotten  his  physic,  and  been  charmed  out  of  his  cares,  and 
taken  to  open  air  and  abundant  exercise. 

Iowa  Falls,  where  the  Iowa  River  leaves  the  "  summit  divide  "  prairies 
and  plunges  down  a  series  of  beautiful  cascades  to  the  level  of  the  lower 
valley,  was  the  location  of  the  prettiest  city  on  my  route,  and  then  the 
terminus  of  the  Dubuque  and  Sioux  City  road.  Thence  I  journeyed 
up  Coon  River  and  out  to  Wall  Lake.  To  visit  this  place  had  been  a 
dream  of  my  boyhood.  Twenty-five  years  ago  it  was  represented  as  a 
marvelous  work  of  the  "mound  builders."  I  found  the  "walls"  there 
not  so  wonderful  as  described,  but  well  worthy  a  visit ;  not  the  work 
of  any  prehistoric  race,  but  due  entirely  to  the  expansive  force  of  ice. 
In  the  vicinity  are  at  least  a  dozen  lakes  with  the  same  formation — 
some  even  more  curious  than  the  one  most  noted.  They  are  on  the 
"divide,"  between  the  waters  which  flow  northward  into  the  Minne- 
sota and  those  which  drain  southward;  and  in  all  countries  such  a 
region  abounds  in  lakes.  The  Iowa  winters  freeze  the  lakes  almost 
solid,  and  the  ice  gathers  up  stones,  pebbles  and  mud,  and  year  after 
year  pushes  them  toward  the  shore;, then  when  the  lake  is  full  and 
frozen,  it  drives  them  Avith  resistless  energy  into  the  "  wall,"  till  the 
latter  looks  like  the  most  compact  of  man-made  masonry.  In  some 
instances  the  water  has  cut  a  new  outlet  and  drained  the  lake,  and 
within  a  few  years  nature  has  begun  the  formation  of  a  new  wall  inside 
the  old  one.  Swans  and  wild  geese  abound  in  this  region,  which 
warmly  invites  the  tourist,  the  scientist  and  the  sportsman". 

Westward  again,  and  nothing  but  prairie  to  be  seen;  an  average  of 
two  or  three  families  to  the  township,  and  half  a  day's  travel  at  a  time 
without  sight  of  a  house.  The  swiftly  running  streams,  with  hard  bot- 
toms and  pebbly  banks,  disappear,  and  sluggish  sloughs  take  their  place. 
Down  a  long  slope  for  six  or  eight  miles,  the  road  brings  one  at  last  to 
a  slough,  sometimes  with  current  enough  to  be  called  a  creek,  along 
which  is  found  a  scattering  growth  of  timber,  and  sometimes  a  few  en- 
closed farms.  Thence  one  rises  by  slow  degrees  to  another  divide,  and 
again  down  a  slope  to  the  next  creek  and  settlement,  from  ten  to  thirty 
miles  from  the  last.  But  the  wave  of  immigration  was  rolling  in;  the 
railroad  had  been  located  on  this  route,  and  now  the  line  I  traversed 
presents  a  constant  succession  of  cultivated  fields  and  tasty  homes;  a 


THE  HAWKEYES. 


21 


region  rich  with  orchards,  white  and  red  with  clover-tops,  or  yellow 
with  heavy-headed  grain.  Then  there  was  but  one  railroad  across  the 
State;  now  there  are  four  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Missouri — all 
stimulated  by  the  completion  of  the  Union  Pacific.  Then  Iowa  had 
one  acre  in  seventeen  under  cultivation ;  now  she  has  one  in  ten,  and  a 
population  of  nearly  two  millions.  With  less  waste  land  than  any 
other  State,  except  possibly  Illinois,  Iowa  could  sustain  a  population 
of  fifteen  millions,  not  merely  in  comfort,  but  in  affluence.  What 
American  realizes  the  prospective  greatness  of  that  tier  of  States  just 
west  of  the  Mississippi  ?  Minnesota  has  30,000  square  miles  of  wheat- 
producing  soil;  Iowa  has  more  arable  land  than  England;  Missouri 
has  more  iron,  coal,  timber  and  water-power  than  Prussia ;  Arkansas  in 
extent  and  richness  fairly  rivals  the  Kingdom  of  Italy;  and  Louisiana, 
besides  her  sugar  and  cotton,  runs  two  State  governments,  de- 
cides the  presidential  election,  and  has  a  heavy  crop  of  statesmen  to 
spare. 

The  scarcity  of  timber  through  this  section  had  stimulated  the  inven- 
tion of  substitutes.  The  chief  novelty  was  wire  fence,  usually  made 
by  fastening  three  wires  on  a  row  of  posts  with  slip  cleats.  This  was 
only  to  turn  cat- 
tle; but  a  fancy 
article  was  made 
with  six  strands, 
which  rendered  it 
in  local  parlance 
"  horse-high,  bull- 
strong  and  p  i  g- 
tight."  Most  of 
the  counties 
thought  it  cheaper 
to  forbid  pigs  run- 
ning at  large.  In 

Missouri  and  the  timbered  portions  of  the  border  States,  I  heard  this 
statute  denounced  in  much  the 'same  terms  as  the  prohibitory  liquor 
law — "an  invasion  of  our  liberties,  sir!"  Further  north  populai 
sentiment  was  expressed  in  the  pithy  saying:  "A  man's  a  hog  that  '11 
Let  a  hog  run."  Iowa,  by  an  overwhelming  majority,  had  equally 
prohibited  errant  hogs  and  free  whisky.  Minnesota,  when  I  resided 
there  in  1859,  still  held  many  of  the  traditions  of  Maine,  whence 
most  of  the  pioneers  had  come,  and  had  equally  condemned  the  sale  of 
intoxicants.  But  western  manners  proved  too  strong  for  both  States, 


'OUR  LIBERTIES,  SIK  !  " 


22  WESTERN  WILDS. 

for  in  the  larger  towns  at  least  the  traffic  was,  and  is,  open  and 
unrestricted. 

Drawing  near  the  Missouri  I  found  the  country  rising  into  long 
ridges  and  abrupt  swells  of  land,  the  sloughs  disappearing  for  the  most 
part,,  and  clear  streams  again  taking  their  place.  The  grasshoppers  had 
come  in  to  desolate  the  few  settlements,  and  for  two  days'  travel  I  heard 
little  but  complaints  and  forebodings.  Their  method  that  season  was 
peculiar.  They  traveled  along  a  denned  track,  generally  not  more 
than  a  mile  wide ;  but  over  that  area  they  covered  the  ground,  while 
the  air  seemed  full  of  white  specks,  the  creatures  flying  as  high  as  one 
could  see.  Before  them  were  green  prairies,  fields  rich  in  clover,  corn 
and  wheat ;  behind  them  blackness,  desolation  and  mourning.  But 
while  I  studied  them  a  strong  wind  sprang  up  from  the  east,  and  in  a 
few  hours  they  disappeared  and  were  seen  no  more ;  not,  however,  until 
they  had  destroyed  about  half  the  crops  in  three  counties.  Whence 
come  they,  and  whither  do  they  go?  Science  and  unlearned  conjecture 
seem  equally  at  fault.  It  is  certain  that  they  can  only  breed  on  high 
and  dry  ridges  and  plains,  and  a  wet  season  is  fatal  to  them.  An  old 
and  abandoned  road  is  their  favorite  hatching  ground.  For  the  most 
part  they  confine  their  ravages  to  the  border,  but  occasionally  they 
sweep  in  destructive  columns  far  down  toward  the  Mississippi.  A  few 
years  later  I  was  destined  to  have  an  unprofitable  experience  with  them 
in  Kansas,  after  the  State  had  been  free  from  them  seven  years,  and  the 
least  hopeful  believed  that  their  day  had  passed  forever. 

From  this  region  I  turned  south-west,  and  the  last  of  June  crossed 
the  Missouri  to  the  metropolis  of  Nebraska.  Omaha  was  then  the  city 
of  promise.  Whether  that  promise  has  been  fulfilled  is  a  matter  of 
doubt  with  many  who  were  then  sanguine.  The  rivalry  with  Council 
Bluffs,  on  the  Iowa  side,  was  intense  and  amusing.  On  the  wrest  bank, 
one  heard  contemptuous  allusions  to  "  the  Bluffs,"  "  East  Omaha,"  and 
"  Milkville."  On  the  other  side  there  were  withering  sarcasms  about 
"Bilkville,"  "Traintown,"  "Omahawgs,"  "Omahens,"  and  "The 
U.  P.  Station  across  the  river."  The  editors  on  one  side,  according  to 
their  statements,  made  their  "libelous  contemporaries"  on  the  other 
"squirm"  almost  daily.  To  the  stranger,  who  had  no  possessions  in 
either  place,  it  was  a  free  comedy.  The  "  Omahawgs,"  with  cheerful 
disregard  of  grammar,  spoke  of  their  city  as  the  "initial  terminus"  (in 
English,  "  beginning-end  ")  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad,  and  future 
entrepot  of  the  California,  China  and  Australia  trade.  It  did  look 
reasonable  that  they  should  build  up  a  great  city,  and  cheering  proph- 
ecies were  abundant.  Somehow  thev  have  been  slow  of  fulfillment.  A 


THE  HAW KE  YES.  23 

careful  census  by  the  city  authorities  made  the  population  19,000.  The 
next  year  they  modestly  estimated  it  in  round  numbers  at  25,000;  and 
the  next  came  a  great  epidemic  (of  United  States  officials)  and  swept 
oft' half  the  number,  for  the  United  States  census  of  1870  credits  Omaha 
with  less  than  13,000  inhabitants.  The  city  is  cosmopolitan.  First 
Street  is  located  in  the  river  (at  high  water),  and  the  first  seven  streets 
are  supposed  to  be  on  the  sandbar.  The  city  begins  at  Eighth 
Street,  and  the  location  of  the  fashionables  is  from  Eighteenth  to 
Twenty-fifth  Streets,  on  Capitol  Hill.  Such  are  the  pleasing  self-delu- 
sions of  the  expanding  mind  in  the  glorious  free  and  boundless  West. 

It  was  the  notable  hot  season  in  Nebraska,  and  a  week  in  the  metrop- 
olis satisfied  me.  Thence  I  sought  the  country  by  way  of  the  old  Cali- 
fornia trail,  and  traveled  a  month  in  rural  Nebraska — first  in  the  valley 
of  the  Papilion  (which  the  people  persist  in  calling  Pappeo),and  thence 
to  Fontanelle  and  up  the  Elkhorn  through  what  is  considered  the  gar- 
den spot  of  Northern  Nebraska.  It  is  a  region  rich  in  natural  wealth, 
and  was  even  then  so  handsomely  improved  that  travel  through  it  was 
a  constant  delight.  There  were  miles  of  corn-fields,  with  heavy  crops, 
and  tracts  of  wheat  just  ready  for  harvesting,  farm  products  of  all  kinds 
in  abundance,  and  plenty  blessing  the  industrious  farmer.  Planted 
timber  of  nearly  all  kinds  grows  rapidly,  cottonwood  and  locust  es- 
pecially; nearly  every  settler  has  an  artificial  grove,  and  these  are 
abundant  enough  to  greatly  beautify  the  landscape.  The  soil  is  deep 
and  rich,  the  country  gently  rolling,  high,  dry  and  healthful.  The 
wheat  through  that  region  averaged  twenty-five  bushels  per  acre  that 
year.  For  the  width  of  the  State  north  and  south,  and  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  back  from  the  Missouri,  almost  every  acre  is  adapted  for  the 
production  of  grain.  Thirty  thousand  square  miles  of  land  give  abun- 
dant room  for  an  agricultural  population  of  a  million.  West  of  the 
area  I  have  thus  bounded,  the  land  rises  more  into  the  barren  ridges; 
only  the  valleys  are  very  fertile,  and  most  of  the  country  is  valuable 
only  for  grazing.  Society  is  well  organized;  churches  and  schools  have 
been  handsomely  provided  for;  vacant  land  in  the  fertile  section  is 
still  abundant  and  cheap,  and  if  one  is  native  to  any  latitude  north 
of  36°,  Nebraska  offers  him  first-class  inducements. 

The  Indian  still  lingered.  The  Pawnees  were  the  local  aborigines, 
but  Omahas  (properly  Mahaws)  and  Otoes  were  common,  all  three  be- 
ing among  the  most  unprepossessing  of  the  race.  Long  observation 
has  convinced  me  that  those  tribes  which  fringe  the  white  settle- 
ments, hanging  between  civilization  and  barbarism,  always  include 
the  meanest  looking  specimens.  Of  course,  I  except  the  civilized  res- 


24 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


idents  of  the  Indian  Territory.  Cooper's  Indians  are  extinct,  but  the 
"  noble  red  man,"  in  a  certain  sense,  does  exist,  and  I  have  seen  him. 
But  not  near  the  settlements.  One  must  go  far  into  the  interior, 
where  they  are  the  style  and  he  the  oddity,  to  see  really  interesting  In- 
dians. How  inferior  are  the  Pawnees  to  the  Sioux,  the  Kaws  to  the 
Utes,  the  Osages  and  Otoes  to  the  Navajoes!  A  few  tribes  may  pass 
successfully  across  the  awful  gulf  between  savage  life  and  civilized,  but 
there  is  a  fearful  waste  of  raw  material  in  the  process. 

My  travels  in  Nebraska  drew  near  a 
close,  and  I  stood  at  evening  of  a  beauti- 
ful summer  day,  upon  a  lofty  hill  that 
overlooked  the  fertile  Platte  Valley. 
Southward  the  scene  was  bounded  by  the 
heavy  timber  lining  that  stream;  east- 
ward I  looked  over  a  landscape  rich  in 
natural  and  artificial  beauty  to  the  for- 
ests on  the  Missouri ;  northward  the 
winding  Elkhorn  could  be  traced  many 
a  mile  by  the  tasteful  groves  which  adorn 
its  bluffs,  while  westward  the  view  was 
free  to  the  meeting  of  earth  and  sky. 
That  way  lay  adventure  and  novel  scenes ; 
that  way  I  was  mightily  drawn.  The 
haze  of  evening  softened  the  outlines  of  a 
beautiful  landscape ;  from  the  eastward  came  the  rumble  and  smoke  of 
a  Union  Pacific  train  dashing  out  for  Cheyenne,  while  westward  up 
the  valley  a  vagrant  party  of  Pawnees  were  fast  pressing  out  of  sight. 
The  scene  was  an  emblem  of  progress.  I  breathed  the  spirit  of  border- 
land poetry.  The  Bedouin  instinct  stirred  within  me,  and  I  burned  to 
hasten  my  departure  to  that  newer  West,  which  already  made  this  region 
seem  old.  But  before  I  enter  on  the  long  detail  of  my  Western  wan- 
derings, let  me  briefly  sketch  the  labors  and  perils  of  a  '49-er,  who 
passed  that  way  nineteen  years  before  me. 


1  CIVILIZED." 


CHAPTER  II. 

A    WESTERN    CHARACTER. 

UNCONSCIOUS  greatness  is  a  Western  product.  There  many  a  man, 
in  pursuance  of  the  humblest  duties,  becomes  a  hero  without  knowing 
it.  One  such  let  me  celebrate.  A  most  modest  hero,  he  had  seen  the 
world  without  intending  it;  had  lived  a  romance  in  the  mere  earning 
of  a  livelihood,  and  grown  great  in  simple-hearted  obedience  to  family 
affection. 

In  the  autumn  of  1873  I  made  a  leisurely  journey  through  the  new 
counties  of  southern  Kansas.  The  Osage  Ceded  Lands,,  which  only 
five  years  before  had  been  a  game  preserve  for  vagrant  aborigines,  were 
now  dotted  with  neat  villages  flanked  by  well  cultivated  farms.  From 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  mound  in  Montgomery  County  one  could  look 
over  500  square  miles  of  rolling  prairie  and  fertile  valley,  the  home  of 
20,000  Americans.  Westward  the  land  rose  more  into  barren  ridges, 
beyond  which  were  the  fertile  slopes  of  Cowley  County  and  the  new 
country  on  the  Arkansas.  Between  was  a  region  almost  unsettled ;  the 
rocky  ridges  were  fit  only  for  pasturage,  and  the  narrow  valleys  were  neg- 
lected till  better  places  should  be  filled.  There  one  might  ride  for 
hours  without  sight  of  a  dwelling,  fortunate  at  night  if  a  settler's  cabin 
furnished  him  shelter  in  a  room  common  to  all  the  family.  At  the 
close  of  a  September  day  I  had  ridden  ten  miles  without  sight  of  a 
house,  and  eagerly  scanned  the  horizon.  A  horseman  from  the  opposite 
direction  hailed  me  with  equal  eagerness  to  learn  the  distance  to  Elk 
Falls,  his  first  chance  for  the  night.  On  learning  that  it  was  ten  miles, 
he  indulged  in  a  prolonged  whistle,  and  in  turn  informed  me  he  knew 
of  no  house  on  this  road  for  fifteen  miles.  "  But,"  he  added,  reflect- 
ively, "ther's  old  Darnells,  only  a  mile  off  the  road,  down  Grouse 
Creek.  They'll  keep  you  if  you're  a  mind  to  stop  there.  They've  got 
plenty,  too,  such  as  it  is,  and  the  old  woman's  a  prime  cook,  and  '11  set 
it  'fore  you  warm  and  clean.  The  old  man's  the  wust  shuck  up  settler 
on  the  creek,  what  with  rheumatiz  and  ager  and  the  swamps  and  one 
thing  an'  another;  but  git  him  stirred  up  and  he's  a  powerful  talker. 
Heap  o'  life  in  him  yet." 

So  I  went  to  Darnells. 

(25) 


26 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


The  first  show  was  not  inviting.  A  rambling,  double-log  house  of 
the  South-western  pattern — practically  two  cabins  under  one  roof,  with 
a  broad  covered  passage  between.  But  many  a  pleasant  night  have  I 
passed,  and  eaten  many  savory  meal,  in  those  same  double-log  cabins; 
and  in  the  long  hot  days  of  summer,  south  of  latitude  40°,  I  know  of 
no  better  place  to  loll  away  the  delightful  after-dinner  hour  than  in  the 
open  passage  aforesaid. 

My  host  was  indeed  "  shuck  up,"  "  doubled  up,"  too,  I  should  say. 
"  Fevernager,"  Arkansas  swamps,  and  prairie  sloughs  had  done  their 
appointed  work  on  him,  and  he  was  that  perfect  wreck,  a  "  thoroughly 
acclimated  man."  He  was,  in  local  phrase,  "  yaller  behind  the  gills ; " 
his  face  was  of  a  pale  orange  tint,  his  cheeks  a  dirty  saffron,  while 
along  the  neck  his  skin  resembled  a  ripe  pumpkin  speckled  with  coffee 

grounds.  He  re- 
ceived me  with 
dignified  wel- 
come— in  these 
wilds  no  question 
is  made  as  to 
lodging  the  be- 
lated traveler — 
and  referred  the 
matter  of  supper 
to  "the  old  wo- 
man." 

One  glance  at 
her  revealed  the 
Cherokee  1  i  n  e- 
age.  The  deep, 
dark  eye  w  i  t  h 
slightly  melan- 
choly cast,  the 

straight  black  hair,  and  nose  just  aquiline  enough  to  give  piquancy  to 
the  countenance,  indicated  the  quarter-blood  ;  while  her  air  and  bear- 
ing gave  a  hint  of  Ross  or  Boudinot  stock — the  aristocracy  of  that  most 
aristocratic  of  all  our  aboriginal  races.  The  supper  was  a  surprise. 
She  had  evidently  learned  cooking  in  better  schools  than  south-western 
cabins  supply.  Like  him,  she  seemed  prcternaturally  quiet,  as  if  ab- 
sorbed in  thought;  they  lived  in  the  past,  and  to  them  Kansas  was  not 
the  home  of  the  soul.  New  countries  should  be  settled  only  by  the 
young,  for  the  tree  of  deepest  root  bears  transplanting  but  poorly. 


"  THOROUGHLY  ACCLIMATED.' 


A   WESTERN  CHARACTER.  27 

The  broad,  red  sun  was  just  dipping  into  the  prairie  horizon,  when  a 
gray  haze  overspread  the  landscape,  creeping  up  from  the  sluggish 
stream.  The  old  man  waved  his  hand  toward  it  with  the  brief  but 
expressive  phrase,  "break-bone  fever,"  and  we  retired  to  the  cabin  and 
evening  fire.  As  we  filled  and  lighted  the  inevitable  cob  pipe,  com- 
mon in  the  South-west,  I  spoke  of  Andrew  Jackson's  love  of  the  same, 
and  his  Tennessee  habits,  whereat  my  host  broke  out  with  sudden  ani- 
mation : 

"Ah,  you're  from  Tennessee,  a'nt  you?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  was  my  reply,  "  but  I  know  and  like  the  State." 

"Well,  I  was  raised  there,  right  on  the  banks  of  the  Tennessee,  but 
I  was  born  just  over  the  line  in  Alabama.  Yes,  sir,  sixty-four  years 
ago,  in  Glen  Cove,  I  tuck  my  first  view  of  life.  Nicest  climate  in  this 
world,  sir,  and  bad  as  I've  seen  it  tore  up  since,  I  don't  want  no  better 
country." 

"But  how  came  you  to  leave,  if  it  was  so  good  a  country?" 

"Well,  a  good  many  things  happened;  sort  o'  riled  the  current  and 
spiled  me  for  a  steady  life,  though  I'm  pretty  well  anchored  now,  for  a 
fact;"  and  glancing  at  his  distorted  limbs,  he  relapsed  into  speechless- 
ness,  puffing  at  his  cob  pipe,  and  waiting,  Indian  fashion,  for  the  talk  to 
break  out  naturally.  Hot  youth  was  more  impatient  of  time,  and  I 
asked : 

"  If  no  offense,  what  caused  you  to  leave  that  country  for  this  ? " 

"Well,  I  did'nt  leave  there  for  here;  that  would  be  too  big  a 
change.  They  was  many  haps  and  mishaps  between.  It  happened 
along  o'  family  matters  and  the  war.  You  see  they  was  five  brothers 
of  us  and  one  sister,  me  the  oldest;  and  mammy  sort  q'  give  the  rest 
in  my  charge.  Poor  mammy,  she  never  seed  any  of  us  old  enough  to 
be  sure  of." 

"But  how  about  your  father?" 

"  Well,  daddy  was  a  little  onsettled ;  along  o'  trips  down  into  the 
Cherokee  country  and  tradin  with  the  Injins — in  fact  he  let  his  little 
finger  ride  his  thumb  too  often,  and  his  eyesight  weakened  on  it." 

This  was  a  delicate  allusion  to  his  father's  intemperance,  given  in 
the  figurative  language  of  the  South-west. 

"Fact,  he  took  me  down  among  the  Injins  in  Geawjay  and  North 
Alabama  one  trip — fine  country  that,  too;  altogether  too  fine  for  the 
Injins  to  keep  if  the  whites  wanted  it — but  daddy  went-off  at  last,  and 
that  was  the  how  of  my  first  trip.  He  went  off  on  a  broad-horn.  You 
don't  know  what  a  broad-horn  is.  No?  Well,  it's  a  flat-boat  of  the 
old  rig ;  and  the  men  come  back  without  him.  Them  days  they  com- 


28  WESTERN  WILDS. 

raonly  walked  back  from  Noo  Orleens  thro'  the  Injin  country.  All 
they  said  was  he  had  lost  all  his  money,  and  swore  he'd  never  come 
back  till  he  could  come  full-handed.  Mammy  was  ailin'  then,  and 
after  that  she  never  seemed  to  pick  up  any ;  and  the  day  I  was  sixteen 
she  called  me  close  to  the  bed  and  she  said :  '  Willy,  you  go  find  him, 
and  bring  him  back,  for  when  he  dies  he'll  never  be  easy  'cept  beside 
me/  and  then  she  laid  on  me  the  charge  of  all  the  other  five — and, 
stranger,  I  can't  somehow  talk  about  that  time,  but  just  a  week  after 
they  was  only  me  and  Myra  and  the  four  little  boys  left.  I  tell  you  it 
was  a  sad  time.  I've  only  seen  one  worse  and  that  was  in  the  war. 

"  I  hadn't  time  to  cry  much,  for  I  had  a  family  on  my  hands  and 
mighty  little  to  go  on  except  the  place.  We  all  worked  and  made  a 
crop,  and  then  I  fixed  things  up  .a  little,  and  got  a  neighbor  to  take  the 
place — mighty  nice  people  they  was  then  in  old  Tennessee — and  I 
started  to  find  dad." 

"  What !  went  to  find  your  father  at  that  age  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man  simply,  " mammy  had  said  so,  and  of 
course  it  had  to  be  done.  Daddy  had  been  gone  a  year,  when  I  took 
a  broad-horn  to  Noo  Orleens,  and  when  I  was  paid  off  on  the  levee, 
I  was  the  worst  lost  man  you  ever  did  see.  In  the  middle  of  the 
thickest  woods  in  the  world  wasn't  a  circumstance  to  it.  Such  crowds 
and  crowds  of  people,  and  ships  and  boats  and  stores,  and  men  all 
rushing  here  and  yander,  enough  to  distract  you.  Why,  they  wan't 
more'n  one  man  in  four  understood  a  word  I  said.  In  all  my  life  I'd 
never  heard  of  any  language  but  white-man  and  Injin,  and  there  was 
I'ortagee.  Mexican,  Gumbo,  French  and  Coaster,  talkin'  every  thing, 
and  all  mixed  up.  My  head  was  a  swimmin — just  off  the  boat,  you 
know — and  sometimes  I  half  reckoned  I'd  walked  right  out  o'  the 
Ark  and  into  the  brick-yard  at  the  Tower  o'  Babel ;  for  I'd  read  o' 
that  anyhow,  and  might  a'  known  how  things  would  be  in  Noo  Or- 
leens if  I'd  a  thought.  But  says  I  to  myself,  no  time  to  cry  now; 
I'm  here.  So  I  went  about  asking  every  man  that  understood  me  if 
he'd  seed  a  man  named  Hiram  Darnell.  Well,  some  of  'em  cussed 
me,  and  most  paid  no  attention  to  me;  but  bimeby  one  chap  says: 
'  Oh,  yes,  I  know  Mr.  Darnell ;  he's  up  on  Chapitooley  Street  a  chawin' 
rags  for  a  paper  mill.'  And  another  said :  '  He  was  at  the  pipe- 
works,  and  they  was  trainin'  him  to  go  through  a  drain-pipe,'  and  all 
such  stuff. 

"  Well,  I  was  that  green  I  hunted  the  pipe-works,  and  there  they 
sent  me  to  a  leather  store  to  buy  'strap-oil,'  and  told  me  a  lot  more 
stuff.  Then  I  walked  all  over  the  city,  miles  an'  miles  an'  miles, 


A   WESTERN  CHARACTER 


29 


I    HUNTED  THE     P1PK- 
WOKKS." 


lookin'  close  at  every  body  I  seed,  an'  it  seemed  to  me  I  seed  every 

body  but  dad.     In  less'n  a  month  all  my  money  was  gone,  an'  I  felt 

awful  streaked.     But  I  lit  on  another  feller  who  told  me  the  right 

track,  and  we  did  find  out  where  dad  had  worked 

awhile;  but  he  was  gone,  and  finally  the  police 

said  he  wan't  in  Noo  Orleens  now.     So  I  went  to 

work  on  the  levee  a  while  haulin'  and  pitch  in', 

but  it  was  awful  hot  then.     A  feller's  shadder  at 

noon  was  right  'tween  his  feet,  and  'fore  long  I 

struck  an  ole  pard  o'  dads,  and  found  he'd  gone 

away  up  Red  River,   in  the   new  country.     So  I 

went  deck-hand  on  a  boat  up  Red  River,  and  they 

was  nothing  like  so  many  folks  up  there,  an'  people 

more  civil ;  an'  I  traced  him  all  through  Arkan- 

saw    toward   the    Injin    country.     But   it  took  a 

mi^ht  of  time.     Sometimes  I  worked  and  some- 

o 

times  I  walked,  and  at  last  got  where  there  was 

no  houses  hardly,  and   many  a  time  I  was  alone 

all  day  in  the  woods,  and  more'n  once  nearly  lost 

in  the  big  swamps.     At  last  I  got  into  a  more  open  country  and  some 

new  settlements  about  Fort  Smith,  and  then  I  fell  in  with  some  Cher- 

okees,  and  sure  enough  they  knowed  dad. 

"  You  see,  a  lot  o'  Cherokees  moved  out  there  away  back  before 
Jackson  come  in  first  time,  and  dad  had  his  old  liking  for  the  tribe, 
and  had  fell  in  with  them,  and  away  up  in  the  timber  I  found  him  at 
last.  But,  law,  how  he  was  changed !  He  come  out  of  a  cabin  and 
looked  at  me  as  if  I  was  a  stranger.  What  with  hot  weather  and 
whisky  and  the  trouble  and  yaller  fever,  he  wasn't  just  clear  in  his 
mind,  and  what  to  do  I  didn't  know.  But  I'd  learnt  something  by 
that  time,  so  I  watched  around  and  got  him  fixed  up  a  little,  and  with 
a  good  family,  an'  I  went  to  work  again.  The  Cherokees  was  fixin' 
up  considerably,  an'  I  made  a  pretty  good  job  at  rough  carpentering; 
and  there  I  worked  a  whole  year." 

"  You  must  have  been  rather  home-sick  by  that  time." 
"Well,  I  was  a  little  anxious  about  the  boys.  Myra  was  nearly 
fifteen  when  I  left ;  then  come  Joe,  thirteen ;  him  I  played  with,  an' 
had  more  to  do  with  than  any  of  the  boys.  Many's  the  hour  we've 
fished  an'  hunted  along  the  Tennessee.  Poor  Joe!  I've  seen  the 
time  since  when  I  wished  he  was  a  boy  agin,  but,"  with  a  sud- 
den burst  of  triumph,  "  I  stuck  by  him  to  the  last,  as  I'd  promised 
mammy." 


30  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Here  the  old  man  fell  into  such  a  protracted  reverie,  that  I  ven- 
tured to  recall  him  to  the  Arkansas  and  his  father. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  clean  forgot.  Well,  in  a  year  dad  was  so  much  better 
that  we  started  home,  takin'  a  job  on  another  boat  to  Noo  Orleens  to 
shorten  up  the  walk  a  little." 

The  calm  way  in  which  he  spoke  of  shortening  the  walk  from  Fort 
Gibson  to  East  Tennessee,  was  wonderfully  suggestive.  If  it  had 
been  around  the  world,  he  would  have  entered  on  it  with  the  same  reso- 
lution, as  something  that  was  not  to  be  talked  about,  but  done. 

"  When  we  got  to  Noo  Orleens  and  got  paid  oif,  we  fixed  up  with 
some  clean  clothes,  lookin'  real  human  again,  and  started  home.  But  it 
seemed  like  every  thing  was  agin  us.  The  trail  then  led  away  from  the 
river,  and  sort  o'  north  and  east,  nearly  straight  toward  the  bend  o' 
the  Tennessee.  We  worried  along  with  heat,  for  it  was  late,  till  we 
struck  the  edge  of  the  Injun  country,  where  we  found  every  thing  all 
tore  up.  I  never  got  the  hang  of  it  exactly ;  but  the  States  was  a 
pressin'  the  Injins  to  go,  an'  some  wanted  to  an'  some  didn't;  and  the 
Choctaws  they  was  a  fussin'  with  their  agents,  an'  the  Cherokees  a 
flghtin'  with  one  another,  an'  there  was  murder  an'  robbery  an'  horse- 
stealin'  all  over  the  country,  an'  their  light-horse  companies  out  arrestiii' 
every  body  that  passed  on  the  roads.  Ho\v  I  got  along  I  don't  know. 
Every  time  I  laid  down  in  an  Injun  cabin  it  seemed  to  me  I'd  have 
my  throat  cut  'fore  mornin';  but  dad  talked  the  lingo  like  a  born 
Injin,  so  they  couldn't  come  no  tricks  in  our  hearin',  an'  every  night 
I  dreamed  I  saw  mammy,  an'  she  looked  kind  o'  glad,  an-'  though  she 
said  nothin',  her  looks  meant  plain  enough  :  '  Don't  cry,  Willy,  you'll 
get  home  all  right.' 

"But  when  we  got  to  the  Cherokee  country  it  was  worst  of  all. 
They  was  two  parties  in  the  tribe,  Rossites  and  Ridgites,  and  just  then 
the  Rossites  got  up  an'  murdered  a  chief  named  Mclntosh  an'  a  lot  of 
other  Ridgites,  an'  swore  that  every  Injun  that  said  'go'  should  be 
served  the  same  way.  They  stopped  us,  an'  wouldn't  let  us  go  through 
at  all.  They  pow-wowed  around  with  us  for  two  months;  then  come 
along  some  that  knowed  Daddy,  an'  they  said  he  should  go  or  they'd 
have  blood.  So  it  was  settled  that  I  was  to  stay  an'  him  go  on,  an'  if 
it  proved  we  was  all  right,  I  was  to  be  let  go  in  so  long  a  time.  When 
the  time  come  they  turned  me  loose,  an'  I  started  north  on  the  first 
road  I  struck.  But  I  was  powerfully  out  o'  conceit  with  the  redskins, 
an'  the  first  two  nights  I  slept  out. 

"  It  was  then  September,  an'  the  next  day,  when  I  thought  I  was 
near  the  Tennessee,  all  at  once  I  took  so  cold  I  seemed  like  I'd  chill  to 


A   WES  TEEN  CHARACTER.  31 

death,  an'  pretty  soon  so  hot  that  I  stopped  at  a  spring  an'  drunk  an' 
drunk  till  I  staggered  'round  like  I  had  a  load  of  whisky  on.  An' 
when  night  come  on,  I  kept  gettin'  up  an'  layin'  down  first  one  place 
an'  then  another,  an'  then  huntin'  water  an'  tryin'  to  get  into  a  house 
that  was  right  afore  me,  an'  yet  I  couldn't  somehow  locate  it.  All  at 
once  I  come  on  Joe,  an'  I  cried  like  a  child,  an'  begged  him  to  take  me 
in  an'  give  me  a  drink.  It  'peared  like  Joe  was  scared  of  me,  an'  run, 
an'  I  run  an'  called  to  him  all  night  thro'  the  woods.  Then  it  come 
on  to  rain,  an'  I  got  down  by  a  tree,  an'  it  seemed  like  Joe  was  jist 
t'other  side  of  the  tree,  an'  wouldn't  come  an'  help  me.  So  I  got  up 
an'  staggered  on,  an'  all  at  once  I  was  at  myself,  settin'  at  the  foot  of 
another  tree,  an'  somebody  was  callin'  thro'  the  woods  for  milk  cows. 
And  when  the  voice  come  near  me  I  set  down  an'  cried,  for  it  made  me 
think  o'  Mammy  and  Myra — it  was  so  soft  an'  swreet.  Then  a  girl 
come  up,  and  I  tried  to  speak,  but  shivered  an'  shook  that  bad  I 
couldn't  say  a  word.  But  how  pretty  that  little  white  Cherokee 
looked !  Stranger,  you  have  no  idee.  No  woman  you  ever  see  could 
ekal  her." 

I  was  about  to  demur  to  this,  when  the  fire  blazed  up  brightly,  and 
I  glanced  across  the  hearth  at  the  "old  woman;"  and — was  it  fancy?  or 
did  the  lines  in  the  poor,  worn  old  face  seem  to  fade  away,  and  a  trem- 
ulous softness  steal  into  the  dark  eyes  ?  I  suspended  criticism,  and 
after  a  brief  reverie  my  host  continued : 

"  Well,  I  sunk  down  agin,  an'  the  next  I  recollect  I  was  in  a  cabin, 
an'  an  old  conjurer  was  pow-wowing  over  me.  She  was  the  blackest, 
grizzliest  old  Cherokee  I  ever  seed;  an'  as  she  muttered  some  heathen 
stuff,  an'  rattled  a  little  bell,  she  sometimes  went  to  the  door  and 
stroked  her  face  and  kissed  her  hand  to  the  sun,  an'  somehow  I  got  the 
idee  she  was  the  same  as  the  pretty  little  girl  that  found  me,  an'  the 
notion  of  the  change  made  me  cry  agin.  The  next  ten  days  I  don't 
know  much  about,  only  they  had  a  regular  doctor  once  or  twice ;  an' 
all  at  once  I  woke  one  clear  morning,  an'  there  set  the  pretty  little 
Cherokee,  an'  my  head  was  all  right  agin. 

"  But  law,  stranger,  I  was  that  weak !  They  was  white  Cherokees 
that  picked  me  up — the  man  a  Scotchman,  married  to  a  half-blood 
woman,  and  some  of  the  best  folks  I  ever  struck.  It  was  weeks  be-, 
fore  I  could  walk  a  quarter  ;  then  I  got  strong  pretty  fast,  and  bimeby 
along  came  dad  huntin'  for  me.  An'  that  girl — well,  I  reckon  she 
spared  nothin'  that  cabin  could  aiford  to  help  me  get  well.  She  used 
to  sing  the  Cherokee  songs,  and  her  mother  would  tell  all  about  the 
travels  and  troubles  of  the  tribe  from  the  time  they  left  the  Yemas- 


82  WESTERN  WILDS. 

see.  in  Carolina,  till  now.  And  when  I  was  able  to  go  it  seemed  like 
a  dream — as  if  I  hadn't  been  there  a  week.  It  was  over  two  years 
I'd  been  gone,  but  every  thing  was  right  at  home.  After  that  I  had 
business  every  two  or  three  months  down  in  the  Cherokee  Nation,  an' 
all  at  once  the  troubles  started  up  again.  The  rights  of  it  I  no  more 
understood  than  I  did  the  other  trouble,  only  that  Jackson  had 
come  in  President,  and  took  the  part  of  Geawgey  and  Alabama  agin 
the  Injins,  an'  swore  they'd  got  to  go  anyhow,  an',  then  they  quar- 
reled among  themselves  agin.  Then  her  father  died — the  little  white 
Cherokee  I  mean — and  her  mother  was  all  put  out  about  the  troubles, 
but  finally  said  she  must  go  with  her  people,  and  claim  her  head- 
rights  on  the  land  where  they  was  to  settle.  Then  I  spoke  to  the 
little  girl — well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I've  tried  for  thirty  years 
to  pay  up,  but  I'm  still  in  her  debt,  an'  to  me  she's  just  as  pretty  as 
she  was  the  mornin'  she  found  me  in  the  woods." 

And  now  I  was  sure  it  was  no  fancy,  for  the  "old  woman"  had 
crossed  the  hearth  and  taken  the  gray  head  in  her  hands;  the  sad, 
dark  eye  was  again  lighted  with  the  gleam  of  youthful  love,  the 
wrinkles  gave  place  to  smiles,  and  the  worn  face  was  transformed  into 
something  far  beyond  the  beautiful.  It  was  divine. 
"So  your  troubles  ended  in  joy  at  last,"  said  I. 
"Yes,  I  reckon  you  may  say  so;"  then,  with  his  pipe  relighted, 
he  puifed  away  in  silence.  He  had  acquired  one  habit  of  his  stolid 
Indian  friends — the  habit  of  having  fits  of  silence,  waiting  on  the  stim- 
ulus of  smoke.  Two  lads  of  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  came  in  with 
the  proceeds  of  a  day's  hunt. 

"  Our  grandsons,"  said  the  hostess,  in  a  half-apologetic  tone,  "  and 
about  all  the  dependence  we've  got  now." 

This  was  her  first  and  last  observation,  and  we  seemed  in  a  fair  way 
to  smoke  the  evening  away  in  silence,  when  one  of  the  young  men 
threw  a  fresh  knot  on  the  fire.  It  blazed  up  brightly,  and,  with  In- 
dian suddenness,  the  old  man  broke  out  again  : 

"  It  was  a  bad  thing,  a  bad,  mean  thing,  the  way  them  people  was 
rooted  out.  Just  think  of  a  whole  people,  sixteen  or  eighteen  thou- 
sand, lots  of  'em  with  good  farms,  an'  houses,  an'  shops,  an'  startin' 
schools  an'  newspapers,  havin'  to  pull  up  whether  or  no,  with  soldiers 
to  prod  them  along  with  bayonets,  an'  go  away  off  to  a  country  they 
didn't  like,  an'  where  lots  an'  lots  of  'em  died !  Well,  that's  what 
they  done." 

"  You  mean  the  Cherokees." 

"  Yes,  my  wife's  folks  all  went  with  'em.     So  we  bought  a  place  of 


A   WESTERN  CHARACTER.  33 

a  Cherokee  that  was  leaving,  an'  worked  it  five  years,  an'  got  every 
thing  fixed  beautiful,  with  lots  of  stock  and  grain.  But  it  seemed  like 
they  was  no  luck  in  that  cussed  country ;  anyhow,  I  was  turned  out 
bag  an'  baggage." 

"Turned  out!     How?     Did  you  lose  your  land?" 

"  Well,  yes ;  it  amounted  to  that  finally." 

He  seemed  desirous  of  giving  the  story,  and  yet  was  reluctant  to 
begin. 

"  But  how  did  it  happen  ?  "  I  persisted. 

"  Well,  stranger,  I  never  just  got  the  right  of  it,  an'  for  a  long  time 
I  never  liked  to  think  of  it,  for  I  always  got  mad  an'  swore  under  my 
breath,  an'  it  worried  the  old  woman,  an'  made  me  lose  sleep,  an'  so 
I've  pretty  much  quit  thinkin'  about  it.  You  see  when  the  Injins 
left,  there  was  a  deal  of  swindlin'.  Most  of  'em  was  ignorant,  an' 
some  signed  away  their  land  when  drunk,  an'  a  few  rascally  Injins 
traveled  'round  with  the  speculators,  signin'  away  others'  rights,  an' 
swearin'  they  was  the  ones.  A  man  just  come  up  one  day  with  a 
deed  to  my  land,  an'  the  court  pow-wowed  awhile  about  it  and  said 
it  was  his'n,  an'  I  just  had  to  clear." 

"  But  you  had  your  stock." 

"  Well,  no,  not  exactly.  You  see  I  lawed  him  awhile,  an'  the  court 
made  me  pay  for  that,  an'  my  lawyer  cost  something;  an'  the  height 
of  it  was,  when  the  thing  was  done  I  just  put  my  wife  on  the  only 
hoss  we  had  left,  with  a  little  one  behind  her,  an'  the  baby  in  her 
arms,  an'  me  an'  the  oldest  boy  walked,  an'  we  went  back  to  Ten- 
nessee." 

"And  began  again  without  a  cent !" 

"  Well,  not  that  exactly.  I  raised  some  money  in  a  year  or  two. 
But  somehow  it  didn't  seem  the  old  thing  to  me  there,  an'  so  we  come 
over  west  of  the  mountains,  an'  got  a  little  piece  of  land  in  Coffee 
County,  an'  that  was  our  home  till  we  come  out  here.  After  all  we've 
got  along,  an'  I've  never  been  in  jail  but  once." 

"  In  jail !     Why  you  never  committed  any  crime?" 

"  No,  but  come  mighty  nigh  it  once — near  enough  to  be  took  up  an' 
mighty  nigh  hung  for  it.  But  that  was  out  in  Iowa." 

"So  you  did  take  another  trip,  after  all." 

"  Yes  ;  it  was  along  o'  the  boys,  specially  brother  Joe — him  that  1 
always  sot  most  store  by.  Joe  married  young — married  an  Irish  girl 
in  the  neighborhood,  though  all  of  us  opposed  it.  I  could  see  she 
had  temper  ;  but  every  feller's  got  to  take  his  chances  on  that,  anyhow. 
You  know  how  that  is." 
3 


34  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"  No,  I  can't  say  as  I  do.     But  how  did  lie  get  along  ?" 

"  "Well,  there  was  trouble.  An'  bimeby  I  persuaded  Joe  if  they'd 
get  away  from  both  their  folks  it  would  be  better ;  so  he  went  to  In- 
jeanny,  and  then  to  Illinoy.  "Well,  it  seems  like  when  folks  get  started 
that  way  they  keep  goin'  and  goin'.  One  place  is  too  hot  and  another 
too  cold,  an'  here  its  sickly  an'  there  they's  bad  neighbors,  and  so  on. 
Leastways  it  was  that  way  with  Joe,  and  finally  he  landed  in  the  Half- 
breed  Tract  in  Iowa.  At  first  he  could  not  say  enough  in  praise  of 
the  country.  Joe  was  a  great  scholar;  he  could  write  like  a  school- 
master, an'  cipher  as  fast  as  he  could  make  the  figures ;  but  my  wife 
had  to  read  the  letters  an'  answer  for  me.  All  at  once  we  got  no  more 
letters  for  two  or  three  years,  and  then  come  one  with  just  a  few  lines, 
an'  it  wound  up :  '  I've  writ  so  often  an'  got  no  answer,  I'm  discour- 
aged, but  I'll  try  once  more.  Come  an'  see  old  Joe  before  he 
dies !' 

"  Nothin'  could  a'  stopped  me  after  that.  I  fixed  up  every  thing 
snug  about  home,  an'  got  Ben,  my  youngest  brother,  to  stay  while  I 
was  gone,  an'  run  down  the  Tennessee  an'  up  the  Mississip  to  St. 
Louis.  Then  I  conceited  I  might  need  all  my  money,  so  I  took  a  job 
on  another  boat  to  Nauvoo,  where  I  landed  all  right,  but  soon  found 
I'd  run  right  into  the  trouble. 

"  It  was  the  year  after  the  Mormon  prophet  was  killed,  an'  the 
whole  country  was  up  a  boomin'.  I  only  knowed  Joe  lived  back  in 
the  country  somewhere  on  the  other  side,  an'  when  I  asked  about  roads 
they  looked  at  me  like  I  was  a  pirate.  I  had  to  give  account  of  my- 
self half  a  dozen  times  'fore  I  got  out  of  town,  an'  then  like  enough 
when  I'd  step  off  I'd  overhear  some  feller  say,/  D — n  him,  he's  one  of 
'em,  and  a  spy  at  that.'  Over  the  river  it  was  jist  as  bad.  Every 
body  was  afraid  of  every  body  else  they  didn't  know.  If  I  went  nigh 
a  house  when  the  men  was  out,  liker'n  not  the  woman  'd  bolt  the  door 
an'  set  a  dog  on  me,  or  run  out  toward  the  fields  and  holler  for  the 
men.  Every  body  carried  a  gun,  or  a  club,  or  a  knife,  an'  I  never  seed 
so  many  big  an'  savage  dogs — one  or  two  at  every  house ;  an'  they 
looked  jist  as  snappy  an'  suspicious  as  the  people,  an'  watched  round 
close  an'  stuck  by  the  women  whenever  a  stranger  come  along.  One 
man  I  asked  a  civil  question  about  the  road,  an'  he  only  grinned  an' 
said,  'Your  safest  road's  back  towards  Nauvoo;  they  hang  horse 
thieves  over  here.'  An'  that  night  where  I  stopped  they  stood  with 
the  door  open  about  an  inch,  an'  made  me  answer  a  hundred  questions 
'fore  they'd  let  me  in.  Lord,  such  a  catekismcn  I  Avas  put  through ! — 
an'  didn't  half  want  to  let  me  in  then.  It  was  jist  the  Cherokee  COUD- 


A    WESTERN  CHARACTER, 


35 


try  over  agin,  an'  they  might  as  well  a  been  at  war  for  any  comfort 
they  took. 

"  But  next  day  I  found  Joe's,  and  it  was  the  poorest,  meanest  house 
on  the  Tract.  I  walked  in,  an'  what  do  you  think  I  seed?  Thar  was 
my  dear  Joe  sittin'  all  bent  up,  an'  poor  an'  thin,  an'  lookin',  though 
not  over  forty,  like  a  man  o'  sixty.  He'd  rastled  with  ager  an'  room- 
atiz  time  about  till  nothin'  was  left  for  any  sickness  to  tack  on  to,  an' 
all  the  while  that  Irish  wife  o'  his  tormentin'  him  to  death.  When  I 
saw  him  I  never  said  a  word — I  couldn't — but  I  jist  took  him  in  my 
arms,  an'  for  the  first  time  in  all  my  troubles  I  broke  down  an'  cried ! 
It  done  Joe  no  end  o'  good  to  see  me,  but  it  wa'nt  for  long.  She  soon 
spilt  our  comfort.  She  was  a  spitfire  when  he  married  her,  an'  you  un- 
derstand age  an'  bad  luck  hadn't  improved  her  any — what  with  bein' 
out  among  such  rough  people,  losin'  her  children,  an'  livin'  in  a  cabin 
with  a  sick  man,  an'  mighty  little  to  go  on,  for  they  was  poor  as  the 
low-wines  o'  pond-water." 

Only  the  western  traveler  who  has  been  compelled  to  suck  up  moist- 
ure from  a  prairie  slough,  or  lie  down  and  drink  out  of  a  wagon  track, 
can  appreciate  the  force  of  this  simile.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  con- 
ceive of  a  more  unsatisfactory  drink. 

"  She  could  swear  like  an  ox-driver,  an'  when 
she  took  a  tantrum  every  thing  was  ammunition 
that  come  to  her  hand — the  poker  or  an  old  skil- 
let-handle, it  was  all  one  to  her.  But  I  stood 
her  off,  and  was  gettin'  Joe  cheered  up  right 
smart,  when  one  mornin'  I  \vas  everlastingly 
took  back  by  seem'  a  crowd  of  men  with  guns 
comin'  up  to  the  gate.  'What  does  them  men 
want?'  sez  I.  'You,  like  enough,'  sez  she,  snap- 
pin'-turtle  style.  An',  sure  enough,  it  was  me. 
They  snatched  me  right  out  of  the  house,  with- 
out a  word  o'  why,  an'  I  thought  my  time  had 
come.  They  was  all  sorts  o'  talk  about  an  aw- 
ful murder,  an'  two  or  three  o'  the  lot  was  hot 
to  hang  me  up.  But  the  captain  said,  '  No ;  ev- 
ery fellar  should  have  a  fair  trial — Mormon  or  old  settler,  it  was  all 
the  same.'  They  took  me  down  to  a  camp  in  the  woods,  where  they 
was  more'n  a  hundred  men,  some  comin'  and  goin'  all  the  time,  an' 
nearly  all  drinkin',  and  the  drunker  they  got  the  more  dangered  I 
felt.  One  chap  stuck  his  face  nearly  agin  mine,  an'  sez  he,  'Didn't 
you  help  kill  Miller  and  Liecy?'  'No,'  sez  I.  'Didn't  you  come 


MRS.  JOE'S  "TANTRUMS.1 


36  WESTERN  WILDS. 

sneak  in'  along  the  brush  road  from  Nauvoo  t'other  day,  then?'  says  he. 
1  No/  sez  I,  and  was  goin'  on  to  explain,  when  he  yells  out,  '  You're 
a  d — d  lying  Mormon,  an'  I've  a  mind  to  shoot  the  guts  out  o'  you,' 
'an  the  captain  stopped  him.  I  noticed  the  captain  didn't  touch  the 
whisky,  an'  that  hoped  me  a  good  deal. 

"  They  took  me  an'  five  others  to  a  big  house,  an'  kept  us  all  day  an' 
night,  an'  then  I  heard  what  it  was  all  about.  An'  no  wonder  the  peo- 
ple was  excited.  It  skeered  me  jist  to  hear  it.  It  was  at  the  only 
house  I'd  stopped  at  on  the  way  where  the  folks  was  easy  an'  civil  like. 
They  was  a  Dutchman  named  Miller  and  his  son-in-law  Liecy  lived 
there;  an'  they  was  jist  from  some  old  civil  country  place  in  Penn- 
sylvany,  or  some'rs  back  there,  where  nobody's  afraid  or  locks  their 
doors  at  night ;  an'  these  men  had  come  on  the  Tract  to  buy  land.  It 
Avas  talked  round  that  the  old  man  had  five  thousand  dollars  in  a  trunk, 
an'  a  job  was  put  up  by  some  fellers  in  Nauvoo.  They  spied  'round  a 
day  or  two,  an'  one  night  three  men  busted  in  the  door  an'  fell  to 
shootin'  an'  cuttin'  every  thing  they  come  to.  The  whole  house  was 
dashed  with  blood.  The  old  man  fit  like  a  tiger.  He  was  a  Dunkard 
preacher,  an'  as  stout  as  an  ox,  an'  I  mind  well  it  was  told  'round  for  a 
fact  that  he  nearly  killed  one  o'  the  men  jist  with  his  naked  fists;  an' 
when  they  run  a  long  butcher-knife  into  his  breast,  he  was  so  big  it 
didn't  go  half  way  through,  an'  he  whipped  'em  off  an'  fell  dead  in  the 
yard !  What  with  the  old  man's  fightig',  and  the  women  screamin', 
an'  the  dogs  a  barkin',  the  fellers  was  skeered  oif  an'  never  got  a  cent 
o'  the  money.  Then  a  neighbor  galloped  to  Montrose,  a  town  nigh 
there,  an'  raised  the  yell,  an'  in  a  little  while  the  Hawkeyes,  as  they 
called  theirselves,  was  out,  an'  that  day  they  sarched  every  corner  in 
the  county.  It  was  {he  roughest  time  for  strangers  you  ever  read  of. 
If  you  ever  seed  a  lot  o'  cattle  bellerin'  'round  where  one  had  been 
shot,  you've  an  idee. 

"  They  was  some  that  even  proposed  to  hang  all  of  us  to  be  sure  an 
catch  the  right  one;  an'  what  made  it  worse  we  was  as  much  skeered 
of  each  other  as  we  was  of  the  Hawkeyes.  But  they  was  one  man 
named  Bird  in  our  lot  who  cheered  us  up  a  good  deal ;  an'  pretty  soon 
they  got  on  the  right  trail,  an'  it  led  straight  to  Nauvoo ;  but  the  Mor- 
mons wouldn't  give  the  fellers  up.  Then  the  sheriff  took  a  whole  boat 
load  of  men  to  Nauvoo,  an'  they  had  a  big  meetin',  an'  threatened 
war,  but  finally  he  got  the  men  he  had  writs  for,  an'  got  'em  in  jail; 
but  the  sheriif  had  his  doubts,  an'  set  up  a  game  on  'em.  They  was 
two  brothers  named  Hodges,  an'  he  took  four  men  of  about  their 
build,  an'  set  'em  altogether,  an'  had  Liecy,  who  lived  some  dajs, 


A   WESTERN  CHARACTER,  37 

carried  in  to  look  at  'em.  The  Hawkeyes  had  us  along,  for  they  was 
bound  to  catch  somebody ;  an'  it  was  the  solemuest  time  I  ever  seed. 
The  two  Hodges  was  as  cool  as  cowcumbers,  but  the  other  four  men 
was  skeered  nearly  to  death.  Liecy  took  a  long  look,  an'  then 
pinted  his  finger  at  the  Hodges,  an'  says  he :  '  There's  the  man  that 
shot  me,  an'  there's  the  man  that  knifed  me ! ' 

"And  that  settled  their  hash.  So  we  was  all  turned  loose,  an'  Bird 
an'  me  made  tracks  for  Joe's.  When  we  got  nigh  the  house,  we  heard 
an  awful  racket,  an'  run  in,  an'  she  had  Joe  down  beatin'  him  with 
his  own  crutch.  They'd  had  another  row,  an'  she'd  sort  o'  got  the 
best  of  it.  I  snatched  the  weepin'  outen  her  hand ;  then  she  swore  at 
us,  an'  lit  out  on  the  road  with  a  partin'  blessin',  an'  that's  the  last 
we  ever  seed  o'  her." 

"Bolted,  did  she?" 

"  Rather  that  way,  stranger.  But  what  do  you  think  that  woman 
done?  Went  straight  to  Montrose,  an'  swore  to  my  havin'  bogus 
money,  an'  the  very  next  day  they  put  me  in  jail — socked  me  right  in 
with  them  two  Hodges — an'  I  never  felt  so  mean  an'  streaked  in  all 
my  life.  I  had  no  learnin'  'cept  to  read  a  little,  an'  that  was  the  first 
I  ever  felt  bad  about  it.  One  of  the  sheriff's  men,  Hawkins  Taylor, 
was  real  kind,  an'  got  me  some  things  an'  a  lot  o'  copies  set.  I  put, 
my  whole  head  to  it,  an'  in  jest  three  weeks,  sir,  I  wrote  a  nice  letter 
to  the  old  woman — didn't  tell  her  where  I  boarded,  though — an'  then 
I  felt  easier.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that,  I'd  'agone  crazy,  shut  up  so 
with  them  Hodges.  I've  seen  'em  more'n  once  since,  in  my  sleep. 
They  swore  an'  sung  an'  joked  an'  held  up  pretty  stiff—  they  had  an 
idee  their  friends  in  Nauvoo  would  take  'em  out — but  bimeby  their 
brother  there  was  found  one  morning  with  his  throat  cut,  jist  after  he'd 
seen  the  head  Mormons  an'  raised  a  row  with  'em  about  givin'  up  these 
two  ;  an'  then  they  sort  o'  lost  hope.  It  was  no  go.  Iowa  was  up  then, 
an'  the  Mormons  might  as  well  a'tried  to  take  'em  from  Gineral  Jack- 
son's army.  I  was  turned  loose  finally,  the  day  before  they  was  hung. 

"They  was  people  come  a  hundred  miles  to  see  it,  an'  camped  out  in 
wagons.  They  had  so  little  fun  on  the  Tract,  it  was  a  great  treat 
to  see  somebody  hung.  Joe  an'  me  was  there,  an'  that's  the  first  an' 
last  sight  of  that  kind  I  ever  took.  I've  seen  plenty  killed,  but  not 
that  way.  We  sold  Joe's  place,  an'  got  him  home,  an'  he  picked  up 
mightily  in  old  Tennessee.  For  an  East  Tennessee  man  no  other 
place  is  as  good  as  the  mountains.  Only  place  I've  seed  to  compare 
vith  it  was  in  Californy." 

"What!     Have  you  been  to  California,  too?" 


38  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"Took  a  little  trip  out  there." 

"  Little  trip !  It  is  considered  a  pretty  big  one.  Did  you  go  for  gold  ?  " 

"  Some'at,  but  more  on  account  o'  the  boys." 

"Your  brothers  again?" 

"  No,  my  own  boys.  You  might  say  I  went  to  keep  them  from 
goin',  for  I  suspicioned  it  was  all  foolishness,  from  the  start.  I  reckon 
you  don't  remember  the  big  excitement.  No?  Well,  it  swept  all 
Tennessee  like  a  fire  in  prairie  grass.  I  first  heard  it  one  day  at  Man- 
chester, when  the  Whigs  had  a  pole-raisin'  along  o'  the  election  o'  old 
Zach  Taylor,  an'  a  man  jist  from  Noo  York  spoke,  an'  said  old  Zach 
had  conquered  for  us  a  country  with  more  gold  in  it  than  any  nation 
on  earth  had.  Pretty  soon  the  news  come  thick.  They  said  men  j  ust 
dug  gold  out  o'  the  rocks — thousands  in  a  day.  You  ought  to 
heard  the  stories  that  was  told  for  solemn  facts.  One  man  said  a 
feller  dug  out  one  lump  worth  eight  hundred  thousand  dollars,  an' 
as  he  set  on  it,  a  feller  come  by  with  a  plate  o'  pork  an'  beans,  an'  he 
offered  him  fifty  thousand  for  it,  an'  the  feller  stood  him  off  for  sev- 
enty-five thousand.  It  was  in  the  Nashville  paper,  an'  so  every 
body  in  our  parts  believed  it. 

"Then  every  loose- footed  man  wanted  to  go.  Some  jist  throwed 
down  their  tools  an'  started ;  an'  some  men  that  was  tied  with  families, 
actually  set  down  an'  cried  'cause  they  couldn't  go.  My  boys  was  as 
crazy  as  the  rest.  But  they  was  only  sixteen  an'  eighteen,  an'  I  seed 
it  wouldn't  do.  So  I  said :  '  Boys,  let  me  go,  an'  I'll  let  you  know  in 
time,'  an'  then  I  bound  'em  to  take  care  o'  their  mother  till  I  sent  for 
'em.  It  would  a'  been  ruination  for  them  young  innocent  boys  to  go 
off  with  such  a  lot  o'  men.  Jest  as  soon  as  the  Tennessee  was  up  so 
boats  could  run  over  Muscle  Shoals,  a  company  of  forty  of  us  shipped 
teams  an'  started,  an'  landed  at  Independence,  Missouri,  the  last  o' 
March.  The  whole  country  was  under  water,  but  our  fellers  was 
crazy  to  git  on ;  so  they  hitched  up  and  started  right  across  the  Kaw 
an'  into  the  Delawares'  country.  But  it  was  all  foolishness  to  start  so 
early.  Accident  after  accident  we  had.  The  mud  was  thicker  an' 
stickier  every  day,  an'  all  the  creeks  was  up ;  but  the  men  kept  up  a 
hoopin'  an'  swearin',  an'  often  had  to  double  teams,  an'  sometimes  we'd 
stick  an'  pull  out  two  or  three  wagon  tongues  'fore  we'd  get  through. 
I  never  seed  men  so  crazy  to  git  on.  They  whipped  an'  yelled,  an' 
wouldn't  listen  to  reason.  They  was  plenty  started  three  weeks  after 
us,  an'  passed  us  on  the  road.  An'  what  was  strange,  the  trains  that 
laid  by  an'  kept  Sunday,  got  to  Californy  first.  You  wouldn't  believe 
it,  but  I've  heard  hundreds  say  the  same  thing. 


A    WESTERN  CHARACTER.  3J 

"  Biraeby  we  got  righted  up  an'  on  dryer  ground,  an'  went  on  after 
killin'  two  or  three  hosses  an'  leavin'  one  wagon.  The  trains  got 
strung  out  all  along  the  trail,  so  we  had  grass  an'  game  plenty  along 
up  the  Blue  River  an'  over  to  the  Platte.  There  we  struck  the  Mor- 
mon emigration  an'  all  the  Californy  trains  that  went  that  way.  The 
whole  country  was  et  out,  an'  the  Injins  threatened,  an'  the  men  got 
to  quarrelin'.  I  tell  you  it  takes  a  mighty  good  set  o'  men  to  travel 
together  three  thousand  miles  an'  not  fuss.  Sometimes  it  was  Whig 
and  Democrat,  an'  then  it  was  Tennessee  agin  Geawgey.  I  tell  you 
when  men  are  tired  an'  dirty  they'll  quarrel  about  any  thing.  About 
half  a  dozen  swore  Californy  was  all  humbug,  an'  turned  back,  an'  at 
Laramie  Forks  the  company  split  into  two.  At  South  Pass  our  half 
split  agin,  an'  ten  of  us  went  off  with  a  company  to  go  the  new  route, 
south  of  the  Salt  Lake.  We  got  to  the  Mormon  City  all  beat  out,  an' 
more'n  half  a  mind  not  to  go  a  mile  further.  Plenty  got  there  in 
worse  humor  than  us.  Some  had  split  up  till  it  was  each  man  for  him- 
self, an'  some  actually  divided  wagons,  an'  made  two  carts  out  o'  one, 
or  finished  the  trip  on  hosses.  We  took  a  rest,  an'  traded  every  thing 
with  the  Mormons,  givin'  two  of  our  hosses  for  one  fresh  one,  an' 
finally  got  off  in  pretty  good  shape  agin. 

"  But  all  we'd  seed  was  nothin'  to  the  country  from  there  on.  Rocks 
an'  mountains  an'  sand;  an'  sand,  an'  rocks  an'  mountains — miles  on 
miles  of  it.  Sometimes  the  water  was  white  as  soapsuds  with  alkali, 
an'  sometimes  as  red  as  brick-dust,  not  one  time  in  five  sweet  an' 
clean.  I  reckon  I  swore  a  thousand  times  if  I  ever  got  home  agin 
nothin'  stronger  'n  cold  water  should  pass  my  lips.  I've  drove  all  day 
'thout  seein'  a  spear  o'  green,  or  a  speck  of  any  thing  but  sand;  an'  if 
we  got  grass  once  a  day,  we  was  in  luck.  Every  day  the  men  swore 
nothin'  could  beat  this,  an'  the  next  day  it  was  always  worse.  I  reckon 
God  knows  what  he  made  that  country  for — he  haint  told  any  body, 
though. 

"At  last  we  got  into  a  region  that  was  the  hind  end  o'  creation — 
seventy  miles  'thout  a  drop  o'  water  or  a  spear  o'  grass!  Nothin'  but 
hot  sand  an'  beds  of  alkali  as  white  as  your  shirt.  The  trains  used  to 
start  in  one  afternoon  an'  drive  two  nights  an'  a  day,  an'  get  to  water 
the  second  mornin'.  The  whole  way  was  lined  with  boxes  an'  beds  an' 
clothes,  an'  pieces  of  wagons,  one  thing  an'  another  the  trains  ahead 
had  left,  an'  the  last  ten  miles  you  might  a'  stepped  from  one  carcass 
to  another  on  the  dead  hosses  an'  mules  an'  oxen.  Two  o'  our  men  got 
crazy  as  loons — you  can  see  such  strange  things  on  them  deserts.  My 
head  was  clear  as  a  bell,  an'  yet  half  the  time  I  could  see  off  to  one 


40 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


side  of  us  a  train  jest  like  our'n,  only  the  men  an'  bosses  ten  times  as 
big,  an'  jist  as  like  as  not  they'd  raise  in  the  air  an'  move  off  upside 
down.  It  was  sort  o'  skeery,  an'  no  mistake.  We  left  four  or  five 
dead  bosses  on  that  tract,  but  when  we  got  to  Carson  River,  it  was  too 
pretty  a  sight  to  tell  about.  There  was  sweet,  clean  water  an'  grass  an' 
trees  an'  trains  strung  along  for  miles  a  restin'  their  stock.  Somo  of 
our  men  run  right  into  the  water  an'  swallowed  an'  swallowed  till  they 
staggered  like  drunk  men.  All  the  rest  of  the  way  was  in  the  mount- 
ains, but  grass 
and  water  was 
plenty,  an'  the 
trees — how  I  did 
admire  to  see  'em! 
Hundreds  o'  miles 
I  hadn't  seen  a 
bush  as  thick  as 
my  thumb. 

"Well,  we  was 
into  Californy  at 
last,  an'  it  looked 
like  heaven  to  me. 
There  was  big 
trees,  an'  the  wind 
blowin'  soft  away 
up  in  their  tops; 
an'  the  pretty  clear 
streams  down  the 
mountain  side  an' 
through  the  gulch- 
es made  music  all 
day.  In  some 
places  the  air  was 
jist  sweet  that 
blowed  out  o'  the 

"MADE  MUSIC  A!.,,  DAY."  pjne        ^^       ^ 

week  after  week  the  sky  was  so  blue,  an'  the  air  so  soft,  it  seemed 
like  a  man  could  stand  any  thing.  An'  no  matter  how  hard 
you  worked  in  the  day,  or  how  hot  it  was,  it  was  always  so 
cool  an'  nice  at  night;  you  could  sleep  anywheres — on  the  ground 
or  on  a  pile  o'  limbs,  in  the  house  or  out  o'  doors,  an'  never  catch 
cold. 


A   WESTERN  CHARACTER.  41 

"  But  if  the  country  was  like  heaven,  the  folks  was  like  the  other 
place,  I  reckon.  Such  sights — such  (loins'!  I'd  never  'a  believed 
men  would  carry  on  so.  I  went  to  minin'  in  the  Amador,  an'  first 
they  wasn't  a  woman  in  a  hundred  miles.  And  when  one  did  come  in 
one  day  on  a  wagon,  the  men  all  run  to  look  at  her  as  if  she  was  a 
show.  Better  she'd  a'  stayed  away,  an'  twenty  more  like  her  that 
come  in  when  the  diggins  begun  to  pan  out  rich.  I  believe  every 
woman  was  the  cause  o'  fifty  fights  an'  one  or  two  deaths.  It  made 
me  mad  to  see  men  fight  about  'em,  when  they  knowed  jest  what  they 
was — men  that  had  mothers  an'  sisters  back  in  the  States,  an'  some  on 
'em  sweethearts  an'  wives.  They  was  mostly  Mexican  women,  an' 
some  Chilaynos  an'  South  Spainers;  an'  somehow  it  was  a  sort  o'  com- 
fort to  me  that  there  was  hardly  ever  an  American  woman  among  the 
lot. 

"Bimoby  these  diggins  sort  o'  worked  out,  an'  I  went  down  on 
Tuolumne,  an'  then  mined  about  Angells  an'  Murphy's  Camp,  an' 
finally  to  Sonora.  Thjen  all  sorts  o'  new  ways  o'  minin'  come  in,  but 
they  took  capital,  an'  I  let  'em  alone.  Men  was  all  the  time  runnin' 
about  from  camp  to  camp — so  many  new  excitements — no  matter  how 
rich  the  ground  where  we  was,  some  feller  would  come  in  with  a  big 
story  about  a  new  gulch,  an'  away  they'd  go.  I've  seen  a  thousand 
men  at  work  along  one  creek,  an'  a  big  excitement  break  out,  an'  before 
night  they  wouldn't  be  twenty  left.  Sometimes  a  man  would  get  title 
to  big  ground,  an'  hold  it  at  a  thousand  dollars,  an'  when  the  rush 
come  you  could  buy  him  out  with  two  mules  an'  a  pair  o'  blankets. 
Many  an'  many  a  time  I've  seen  a  man  go  oif  that  way  with  a  little 
money  an'  never  be  seen  alive.  Like  enough  his  body  was  found  away 
down  the  river,  an'  like  enough  it  was  never  found.  It  got  so  they 
was  men  there  that  would  cut  a  throat  for  ten  dollars.  It  wasn't  all 
one  way,  though.  More'n  once  the  robbers  would  tackle  some  gritty 
man  that  was  handy  with  his  '  barkers,'  an'  he'd  get  away  with  two  or 
three  of  'em.  Every  body  carried  the  irons  with  him,  ready  to  pop  at 
a  minute's  notice,  an'  if  a  man  traveled  alone,  he  took  his  life  in  his 
hand. 

"It  wa'nt  long  though  till  we  got  some  kind  o'  government.  Cali- 
forny  was  made  a  State  the  year  after  I  got  there,  but  that  didn't  sig- 
nify in  the  mountains;  an'  at  Angell's  Camp  we  chipped  in  together 
and  hired  regular  guards  to  look  after  every  suspicious  man.  The 
worst  thing  was  to  get  down  from  the  mines  to  Frisco;  for  if  it  was 
known  that  a  man  was  a  goin'  to  leave,  it  was  'sposed  he'd  made  his 
pile,  an'  had  it  with  him.  At  last  I  made  a  little  raise — that  was  in 


42  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  spring  of  '52 — an'  concluded  to  come  home.  Me  an'  my  partner 
jest  laid  down  our  tools  one  night  right  where  we  worked,  an'  packed 
up,  an'  when  the  camp  was  asleep  lit  out  over  the  hills  'thout  sayin'  a 
word  to  any  human  bein.'  Got  home  'round  by  Panama  all  right,  an' 
found  every  thing  chipper,  an'  when  I  figured  up  I  was  just  three 
hundred  a  head  on  the  three  year's  trip.  Better  stayed  at  home  for 
yold — but  it  saved  the  boys." 

"  Then  you  stayed  at  home  and  took  comfort  for  the  rest  of  your 
life,  I  suppose." 

There  was  dead  silence.  The  "  old  woman  "  rose  and  retired  to  the 
other  cabin ;  the  youths  had  long  before  ascended  the  ladder  which  led 
to  their  bed  in  the  garret,  and  my  host  seemed  to  have  finished.  But 
it  was  evident  there  was  something  more,  and  it  was  the  most  painful 
part  of  his  story.  The  old  wall-sweep  clock  struck  nine  in  a  loud, 
aggressive  tone,  which  roused  the  old  man,  and  he  resumed  in  a  dif- 
ferent manner — a  mingling  of  regret  and  indignation:- 

"  It  was  a  bad  thing,  a  mighty  bad  thing,  for  old  Tennessee,  when  the 
Whig  party  died.  I  felt  in  my  bones  no  good  could  come  of  it.  But 
I  didn't  think  it  would  touch  me  so  close  as  it  did.  I  knowed  trouble 
would  come,  but  couldn't  sec  jist  how.  You  know  all  about  that.  Our 
folks  was  all  agin  the  war  from  the  start.  I  was  down  at  Manchester 
the  day  they  hauled  down  the  stars  an'  stripes,  -an'  sez  I,  l  Men,  you've 
bit  off  more'n  you  can  chaw ;'  an'  they  laughed  at  me.  But  I  knowed 
them  Northern  men — seed  'em  in  Californy.  Slow,  mighty  slow,  to 
start  a  fight,  but  awful  to  hold  on. 

"  But  I  sha'u't  dwell  on  this.  In  less'n  three  mouths,  sir,  both  my 
boys  was  in  it.  I  held  up  a  year  or  more ;  then  come  both  armies 
swecpin'  South,  an'  what  our  folks  left  the  Federals  took.  I  thought 
to  make  a  crop  yet,  an'  fixed  up  a  good  deal ;  then  come  both  armies 
back  north 'rd  agin  an'  swep'  me  clean.  But  my  old  woman  an'  the 
girls  turned  out  an'  helped,  an'  in  '63  we  'scaped  a  long  time.  Then 
they  come  South  agin,  an'  we  give  it  up.  I  really  believed  they'd 
drive  each  other  back  an'  for'rd  there  for  years.  Next  year  I  got  up 
one  mornin',  an'  there  was  a  letter  stuck  under  the  door  by  some  gew- 
rillers,  an'  it  said  both  my  boys  was  bad  shot,  an'  in  the  hospital  at 
Atlanta.  I  felt  death  in  my  bosom  right  then.  But  I  sha'n't  dwell  on 
this.  An  hour  after  sundown  I  was  off  on  the  only  hoss  we  had  left, 
an'  by  daylight  I  was  in  the  sand-hills  along  the  Tennessee.  The 
country  was  full  o'  soldiers,  but  I  got  round  all  of  'em  an'  to  Atlanta. 
It  was  no  good — no  good.  Men  was  dyin'  all  round,  an'  families  broke 
up  an'  scattered,  an'  women  an'  children  naked  an'  starvin'!  What 


A    WESTERN  CHARACTER.  43 

was  my  troubles  to  them  ?  The  boys  was  fur  gone,  an'  no  medicines 
an'  nothin'  to  help  'em  could  be  got  It  was  a  might  o'  comfort, 
though,  to  see  'em  'fore  they  died,  an'  take  back  some  keepsakes  to 
their  mother.  Oh,  stranger,  that  war  was  a  powerful  sight  o'  trouble 
to  us  all ! 

"They  was  buried,  along  with  hundreds  of  others,  an'  I  was  gettiu' 
ready  to  start  back,  when  up  steps  a  chap,  an'  sez  he,  '  Old  man,  we 
want  you — can't  spare  a  man  now  that  can  shoot.'  An'  I  jist  had  a 
chance  to  send  word  home,  an'  then  took  the  place  my  oldest  boy  had ; 
an'  nigh  a  year  after,  when  that  regiment  give  in  to  old  Sherman,  I 
was  one  of  the  thirty-six — all  that  was  left  of  a  big  regiment. 

"  *  *  *  I  found  my  folks  at  a  neighbors,  but  on  my  place  they 
wasn't  a  stick  nor  a  rail.  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  try  it  there  agin.  We 
got  word  that  my  wife's  mother  had  died  in  the  Cherokee  Nation,  an' 
left  a  good  claim ;  so  I  turned  over  the  Tennessee  land  to  my  son-in- 
law  (he  married  my  only  girl),  an'  had  him  take  the  other  grand-chil- 
dren, too,  an'  he  outfitted  us  for  the  Nation. 

"  My  wife  proved  up  on  her  Cherokee  blood,  an'  I  was  let  in  under 
their  law  as  bein'  married  to  a  Cherokee  that  had  head-rights,  an'  we 
took  her  mother's  place.  Nice  fixed  up,  too,  it  was,  on  Grand  River, 
jist  across  from  Fort  Gibson,  an'  there  my  grandsons  that  come  with 
us  made  two  crops,  an'  then  all  at  once  the  troubles  about  the  Chero- 
kees  started  up  again.  I  turned  cold  'round  the  heart  when  I  heard 
it — I  did  want  rest  so  bad.  Then  I  looked  back  only  forty  years,  to 
the  time  when  all  the  country,  from  Tennessee  here,  was  wild,  an' 
President,  Congress,  an'  all  said  if  the  Cherokees  would  only  come  out 
here  they  wouldn't  be  bothered  for  ages  an'  ages,  an'  now  this  country's 
older  'n  Tennessee  was  then.  Neither  did  any  man  own  his  land  in 
the  Cherokee  Nation;  it  was  common,  an'  we  owned  jist  the  improve- 
ments. So  I  took  a  good  long  look  at  the  matter,  an'  sez  I,  l  Once 
more,  Natie,  dear  (that's  my  wife),  we've  got  to  go  once  more ;  this  is 
too  good  a  country  for  Injins  to  keep  if  white  men  want  it,  an'  you  can 
swear  they  will  long  'fore  we  die.' 

"  So  I  traded  that  claim  for  this  piece  up  here,  an'  my  grandsons 
stuck,  an'  I  guess  we'll  get  along.  What  I  dread  more'n  any  thing  is 
another  war." 

"  Why,  what  reason  have  you  to  dread  it  ?" 

t(t  Burnt  child,'  you  know.  All  my  life  I've  been  a  man  of  peace, 
an'  yet  every  fuss  that  come  up  hurt  me.  Three  times  I've  been  broke 
up  an'  ruined  by  wars  an'  troubles  I  had  no  hand  in  briugiu'  on.  Don't 
you  think  they'll  keep  peace  while  I  live?" 


44  WESTERN  WILDS. 

There  was  for  a  brief  moment  a  new  look  in  his  eye — the  eager, 
pleading  look  of  a  hunted  animal.  I  reassured  him,  and  his  face  re- 
sumed its  usual  air  of  placid  humor  and  homely  philosophy. 

"  The  story's  about  done.  Hope  I  hav'nt  bored  you.  It's  a  sorter 
queer  world,  aint  it?  Sometimes  I  think  it  jist  was  to  be  so,  an'  no 
help,  an'  sometimes  I  conceit  I  ought  to  done  better;  but  anyhow,  all  I 
git  outen  the  whole  of  my  experience  is  that  a  man  must  keep  peggin' 
away.  But  you're  noddin'.  Better  you  go  to  sleep  early."  And  di- 
recting me  to  the  ladder,  this  uncomplaining  heir  of  adverse  fortune 
sought  his  bed  in  the  other  cabin. 

Here  was  a  man  who  had  traveled  over  half  the  continent,  been 
farmer,  boatman,  miner,  soldier,  and  Indian  trader,  and  never  imagined 
that  he  had  done  more  than  his  duty.  Perhaps  there  is  no  moral  to 
be  extracted  from  his  story ;  yet  it  somehow  seems  to  me  one  on  which 
discontented  respectability,  cushioned  in  an  easy  chair,  might  profita- 
bly ponder. 


CHAPTER    III. 


THE    JOURNEY    TO    UTAH. 

IT  was  an  era  of  change  and  fierce  excitement.  Omaha  was  in  her 
speculative  period.  Daily  hundreds  of  adventurous  fortune-seekers  set 
out  for  the  mountains,  and  daily  the  refluent  tide  landed  half  as  many 
of  the  returning — a  very  few  fortunate  beyond  their  hopes,  many  about 
as  well  oft0  as  when  they  started,  and  quite  as  many  utterly  bankrupt. 
Such  a  country  could  not  but  develop  strange  characters ;  a  man  either 
failed,  lost  hope,  and  sank  into  a  "  floater,"  or  developed  an  amazing 
capacity  for  lighting  on  his  feet  at  every  fall. 

There,  for  instance,  was  my  friend  Will  Wylie,  who  had  seen  the  el- 
ephant in  its  entirety,  from  trunk  to  tail.  He  went  out  in  1862,  and 
"  struck  it  rich  "  on  his  first  vent- 
ure in  the  mines  of  Montana; 
started  with  teams  and  wagons  to 
California,  and  on  the  way  was 
robbed  of  every  ounce  of  his 
"dust"  by  the  then  swarming 
"  road  agents."  They  kindly  left 
him  his  stock,  with  which  he  got 
through  to  California,  and  thence 
made  a  highly  successful  trip  to 
Arizona.  There  he  turned  his 
means  into  a  freighting  company, 
and  beguiled  the  lonesome  hours 
of  his  long  drives  over  mountains  and  deserts  by  calculating  his  certain 
wealth  and  early  return  to  the  States.  When  near  Fort  Whipple,  and 
not  three  hours  ride  from  a  well-manned  United  States  post,  the 
Apaches  attacked  his  train,  stampeded  all  his  stock  but  the  mule  he 
rode,  and  burnt  all  his  property  they  could  not  carry  oif.  By  the  light 
of  his  blazing  wagons  he  fled,  with  an  arrow  sticking  in  his  cheek ;  his 
frightened  animal  ran  till  it  dropped  dead,  but  fortunately  not  till  it 
had  carried  him  into  the  quadrangle  of  the  fort.  He  was  picked  up  in- 
sensible, and  in  six  weeks  was  out  again  with  the  loss  of  one  eye.  He- 
turning  to  Montana,  he  joined  the  Vigilantes,  and  had  the  pleasure 

(45) 


HIS  L.AST  CHANCE. 


46  WESTERN    WILDS. 

of  presiding  at  a  "  neck-tie  sociable  "  where  two  of  the  men  who  had 
robbed  him  were  hanged.  Some  more  "  dust "  was  obtained  out  of  the 
old  claim  in  which  he  still  held  an  interest,  and  in  1867  he  came  down 
on  the  Union  Pacific  as  a  trader.  He  had  what  he  called  a  "  big  biz  " 
at  each  successive  terminus  town,  and  was  now  in  Omaha  to  buy  a 
"  little  bill "  of  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  provisions,  tobacco  and 
"  bitters "  for  the  new  metropolis  beyond  Cheyenne.  Three  years  after 
I  found  him  away  up  in  the  mountains  of  Utah,  where  he  had  put  all 
his  available  means  in  a  new  and  half-developed  mine,  and  was  sinking 
on  the  vein  with  tireless  energy,  in  the  daily  hope  of  striking  a  bonanza. 
These  hopeful  ones  rarely  make  the  most  money,  but  without  them 
when  would  the  Great  West  ever  have  been  developed  ? 

There,  too,  was  Jim  Garraway  (who,  however,  will  never  recognize 
himself  by  this  name),  born  and  reared  a  gambler — never  knew  much 
else  from  boyhood.  His  father,  companions,  friends,  all  were  gam- 
blers ;  as  a  baby  he  played  with  faro  checks,  and  learned  English  in 
the  atmosphere  of  pool  rooms.  At  twenty  gaming  was  his  (infatu- 
ation. Now  he  had  thoroughly  reformed,  never  touched  a  card,  and 
was  in  a  responsible  position  in  Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  employ.  Two 
years  after  he  surprised  me  by  a  call  at  my  office  in  Corinne,  Utah. 
He  was  freighting  thence  to  Montana,  the  owner  of  mules  and  wagons 
worth  five  thousand  dollars.  One  evening,  when  idle  time  hung  heavy 
on  his  hands,  he  strayed  into  one  of  our  "  sporting  rooms."  The 
smooth-spoken  proprietor  who  so  styled  it,  might  have  added,  "  What 
is  sport  to  us  is  death  to  you,"  for  Jim's  old  infatuation  returned.  He 
staked  a  pile  of  "  chips  "  and  won  ;  then  made  and  lost,  and  made  and 
lost  alternately,  selling  his  stock  when  "  broke,"  and  scarcely  ate  or 
slept  till  the  tail  of  his  last  mule  was  "coppered  on  the  jack." 

Repentant  and  returning  Mormons  were  numerous,  but  seldom 
noisy.  One  I  met  who  had  been  back  and  forth,  in  and  out  of  the 
Church,  three  times.  Now  he  declared  with  profane  emphasis  that 
this  was  the  last  time ;  he  had  seen  enough.  One  little  party  of  a 
hundred  recusant  Saints,  of  all  ages  from  six  months  to  seventy  years, 
had  made  the  journey  in  primitive  style  with  slow  and  patient  ox- 
teams,  all  the  adults  walking.  They  had  left  Salt  Lake  Valley  as 
soon  as  the  caflons  were  clear  of  snow,  and  been  three  months  on  the 
road.  Their  condition  was  wretched;  for  in  those  days,  under  the 
iron-clad  laws  of  Utah,  no  apostate  ever  got  out  of  the  Territory 
with  any  thing  worth  leaving.  The  Mormon  priesthood  taught  the 
apostolic  doctrine  of  "laying  on  of  hands,"  and,  the  dissenters  added, 
what  they  laid  hands  on  they  generally  got  away  with.  These  people 


THE  JOURNEY  TO    UTAH. 


47 


'LAYING  ON  OF  HANDS." 


were  destined  to  a  "Josephite"  settlement  in .  Iowa,  and  at  Council 
Bluffs  they  met  three  hundred  new  converts  on  their  way  to  Utah,  in 
charge  of  a  bishop  and  platoon  of  elders.  But  there  was  very  little 
intercourse  between  the  two.  The  latter  were  fresh,  hopeful,  cheery, 
singing  the  "songs  of  Zion,"  and  rejoicing  in  their  speedy  escape  from 
"Babylon;"  the  recusants  sad,  weary,  half  mad  and  wholly  heart- 
sick. Quick  to  curse  Brigham,  they  were  yet  but  half  cured  of  their 
folly,  and  prepared  to 
surrender  mind  and 
conscience  to  another 
phase  of  the  same  delu- 
sion. The  elders  watch- 
ed their  new  recruits 
without  appearing  to  do 
so,  and  at  sight  of  the 
others  were  full  of 
warnings  and  allusions 
to  Demas  and  those  who 
kept  not  the  faith,  and 
were  given  over  to  be  damned.  In  those  days  most  of  the  dissenting 
Saints  left  Utah;  now  they  remain,  and  with  the  skeptical  young  Mor- 
mons are  building  up  a  party  which  is  very  troublesome  to  Brigham. 

Council  Bluifs  was  once  almost  a  Mormon  town,  and  many  places 
in  the  vicinity  were  settled  entirely  by  that  sect.  Apostates  by  thou- 
sands are  scattered  through  Iowa,  in  faith  "half  Mormon  and  half 
nothing,"  but  in  practice  good  and  industrious  citizens.  Mormonism 
does  not  make  a  man  a  fanatic,  unless  he  goes  where  the  Church  has 
the  majority  and  rules  the  country.  Florence,  six  miles  above  Omaha, 
with  as  pretty  a  site  as  I  saw  in  Nebraska,  was  the  original  winter 
quarters  of  the  main  body  in  their  great  exodus ;  and  according  to  the 
sanguine  belief  of  the  Gentiles  who  succeeded  them,  was  to  have  been 
the  great  city  instead  of  Omaha.  It  had  the  start,  and  no  man  can 
say  why  it  should  not  have  held  .it.  But  there  is  a  mysterious  law 
which  governs  the  location  of  great  cities,  and  Florence  is  now  only 
a  pretty  suburb  to  the  metropolis  of  Nebraska. 

The  last  of  July,  1868, 1  took  the  evening  train  for  Laramie,  then  the 
terminus  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad.  For  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
from  Omaha  the  Platte  Valley,  which  the  road  follows,  is  one  of  the  rich- 
est in  the  world.  Then  a  change  begins,  and  the  country  is  higher, 
dryer,  and  more  barren  with  every  hour's  travel  toward  the  mountains. 
It  is  all  the  way  up-hill.  Omaha  is  912  feet  above  sea-level;  Cheyenne 


48  WESTERN   WILDS. 

5,600;  and  through  all  that  long  incline  of  525  miles,  the  road-bed 
maintains  a  nearly  uniform  up-grade  of  ten  feet  to  the  mile.  At  a  few 
places  it  sinks  to  a  level,  and  for  two  short  stages  there  is  a  down 
grade  westivard :  from  the  Omaha  level  to  the  Platte  Valley,  and  from 
the  "  divide  "  down  to  Crow  Creek,  on  which  Cheyenne  is  situated. 
Nature  evidently  designed  this  valley  for  a  railroad  route.  The  Indian 
had  used  it  from  time  immemorial;  the  voyageur  and  trapper  trailed 
it  for  a  hundred  years  before  California  was  known  in  the  East ;  then 
the  gold-hunters,  Oregon  settlers  and  Mormons  turned  the  trail  into  a 
broad  wagon  road,  and  lastly  came  the  railroad,  obedient  to  the  same 
necessities  for  water  and  a  smooth  route.  West  of  Loup  Fork  we 
found  the  soil  a  little  more  sandy,  and  the  grass  shorter,  with  a  dry  and 
withered  look ;  and  this  change  went  on  till  at  last  we  saw  the  heavy 
verdure  of  the  Missouri  Valley  no  more,  and  were  introduced  to  the 
bunched  and  seeded  grasses  of  the  high  plains  and  Rocky  Mountains. 
North  Platte,  where  we  took  breakfast,  was  once  a  roaring  terminus 
"city ;"  now  a  way  station,  with  hotel  and  saloon  attachment.  Jules- 
burg,  377  miles  out,  had  been  a  busy  city  of  5,000  inhabitants;  now 
it  was  a  wilderness  of  blackened  chimneys  and  falling  adobe  walls,  the 
debris  of  a  dead  metropolis.  In  the  old  days  of  the  overland  stage,  one 
Julia,  a  Cherokee  exile,  kept  the  station  hotel  there ;  and  in  the  cheer- 
ful frankness  of  Western  life  the  place  was  known  as  "  Dirty  Jule's 
Ranche."  Thence  "  Jule's,"  and  finally  Julesburg.  Similarly  "  Rob- 
ber's Roost'' has  been  softened  to  Roosaville,  and  "Black  Bills"  to 
Blackville.  For  three  hundred  miles  we  follow  the  course  of  the 
Platte,  a  broad  but  dirty  and  uninviting  stream,  differing  only  from 
a  slough  in  having  a  swift  current.  Often  a  mile  wide,  but  with  no 
more  water  than  would  fill  an  average  canal,  three  inches  of  fluid  run- 
ning on  top  of  several  feet  of  moving  quicksand;  too  thin  to  walk 
on,  too  thick  to  drink,  too  shallow  for  navigation,  too  deep  for  safe 
fording,  too  yellow  to  wash  in,  and  too  pale  to  paint  with,  it  is  the 
most  disappointing  and  useless  river  in  America.  Nevertheless,  many 
attempts  have  been  made  to  navigate  it,  all  ending  in  disaster.  Nota- 
ble among  these  was  the  venture  of  a  party  of  hunters  from  New 
England,  who  started  from  Laramie  in  the  spring  of  1843  to  run  two 
flats  loaded  with  furs  to  St.  Louis.  After  two  months  arduous  toil, 
often  unloading  and  dragging  their  boats  over  sand-bars,  they  at  last 
abandoned  them,  cached  the  property,N  and  walked  to  Council  Bluffs, 
where  they  arrived  in  July,  nearly  dead  from  fatigue  and  starvation. 

Three  hundred  miles  out,  and  the  plains  in  all  their  vastness  are 
around  us.     The  land  rises  into  long  ridges,  stretching  away  swell  on 


THE  JOURNEY  TO   UTAH. 


49 


swell  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  as  if  the  heaving  ocean  had  suddenly 
become  firm  fixed  earth ;  and  immense  pampas  spread  away  alternating 
flint  and  gravel  with  strips  of  wiry,  curly  grass,  or  at  rare  intervals 
a  protected  growth  of  stunted  shrubs.  Only  the  lowest  vales  contain 
any  cultivable  land,  and  that,  to  be  productive,  requires  irrigation ;  the 
bright  flowers  of  the  Missouri  Valley  are  seen  no  more,  the  lark-spur 
alone  retaining  its  hues;  the  wild  sunflower  and  yellow  saffron  become 
dust-hued  and  dwarfish,  while  milk-weed  and  resin-weed  sustain  a 
sort  of  dying  life,  and  cling  with  sickly  hold  to  the  harsh  and  forbid- 


"THE  GOOD   OLD   TIME." 


ding  soil.  Now  appear  depressed  basins,  with  saline  matter  dried 
upon  the  soil,  and  long  flats  white  with  alkali,  as  if  they  had  been 
sowed  with  lime.  This  is  the  "Great  American  Desert"  of  early 
geographers,  a  region  practically  worthless  to  the  agriculturist,  though 
half  its  surface  is  of  some  value  for  grazing.  Antelope  and  prairie  dog 
show  themselves  in  considerable  numbers,  but  it  is  too  late  for  the 
buffalo;  the  main  line  of  their  northward  migration  passed  two  months 
before,  nor  are  they  to  be  seen  as  in  the  good  old  time  the  hunters  tell 
about.  I  shall  not  inflict  upon  the  reader  the  standard  description  of 
these  animals,  much  less  the  account  of  dog,  owl  and  rattlesnake  as  a 
4 


50  WESTERN   WILDS. 

happy  family  in  one  burrow;  for  this  is  meant  to  be  a  veracious  chron- 
icle, and  though  I  have  since  spent  many  hours  in  "dog-towns,"  I  do 
not  know  such  association  to  be  a  fact. 

Passing  the  last  and  worst  stage  of  the  barren  plains,  we  run  down 
into  the  Jittle  oasis  on  Crow  Creek,  and  to  the  "  Magic  City"  of  Chey- 
enne. Its  rapid  rise  and  mad  career  had  given  it  a  national  fame.  On 
the  3d  of  July,  1867,  the  first  house  was  erected;  on  the  1st  of  No- 
vember there  was  a  population  of  7,000,  with  a  city  government,  a 
municipal  debt,  and  three  daily  papers.  When  spring  dissolved  the 
snow  banks  and  ice-packs  from  Sherman  summit,  the  railroad  pushed 
on ;  Laramie  became  the  metropolis,  and  Cheyenne  sank  to  a  quiet 
town  of  perhaps  1,200  people.  Its  further  decay  was  arrested  by  the 
development  of  sheep-ranching,  and  its  location  as  the  junction  of  the 
Denver  Pacific ;  and  now  as  the  capital  of  Wyoming  and  most  conven- 
ient outfitting  point  for  the  Black  Hills,  it  looks  forward  to  another 
era  of  prosperity. 

While  I  rested  a  few  days  at  Cheyenne,  the  railroad  was  rapidly 
pushing  westward,  and  soon  another  "metropolis"  was  laid  off  be- 
yond Laramie.  From  Cheyenne  the  road  bed  is  nearly  level  to 
Hazard  Station,  officially  pronounced  the  eastern  base  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains;  and  thence  the  grade  rises  eighty  feet  per  mile  to  Sher- 
man, 8,342  feet  above  sea-level,  and  highest  point  on  the  Union 
Pacific.  Beyond  that  we  have  the  magnificent  scenery  of  Granite 
Canon  and  Virginia  Dale,  the  last  now  seeming  peaceful  as  an  Ar- 
cadian dell,  but  with  as  bloody  a  history  as  any  spot  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  In  the  olden  time  it  was  the  favorite  abode  of  land 
pirates,  and  every  ravine  in  the  vicinity  was  the  scene  of  a  murder. 
Thence  the  road  makes  a  sharp  bend  to  the  north,  and  we  run  rapidly 
downward  for  forty  miles  to  the  new  city  of  Laramie,  already  past 
its  greatness,  and  many  of  its  inhabitants  leaving  for  the  next  "me- 
tropolis." Laramie  Plains,  though  7,000  feet  above  sea-level,  abound 
in  rich  pastures;  but  westward  the  grassy  slopes  yield  rapidly  to  bar- 
renness, and  at  Medicine  Bow  we  enter  fairly  on  the  three-hundred- 
mile  desert.  In  the  worst  part  of  this  waste  we  found  Benton,  the 
great  terminus  town,  six  hundred  and  ninety-eight  miles  from  Omaha. 
Far  as  eye  could  see  around  the  town,  there  was  not  a  green  tree, 
shrub,  or  spear  of  grass.  The  red  hills,  scorched  and  bare  as  if 
blasted  by  the  lightnings  of  an  angry  God,  bounded  the  white  basin 
on  the  north  and  east,  while  to  the  south  and  west  spread  the  gray 
desert  till  it  was  interrupted  by  another  range  of  red  and  yellow  hills. 
The  whole  basin  looked  as  if  it  might  originally  have  been  filled  with 


THE  JOURNEY  TO   UTAH.  51 

lye  and  sand,  then  dried  to  the  consistency  of  hard  soap,  with  glisten- 
ing surface,  tormenting  alike  to  eye  and  sense. 

Yet  here  had  sprung  up  in  two  weeks — as  if  by  the  touch  of  Alad- 
din's Lamp — a  city  of  three  thousand  people;  there  were  regular 
squares  arranged  into  five  wards,  a  city  government  of  mayor  and 
aldermen,  a  daily  paper,  and  a  volume  of  municipal  ordinances.  It 
was  the  end  of  the  freight  and  passenger,  and  beginning  of  the  con- 
struction division;  twice  every  day  immense  trains  arrived  and  de- 
parted, and  stages  left  for  Utah,  Montana  and  Idaho.  All  the  goods 
formerly  hauled  across  the  plains  came  here  by  rail,  and  were  reship- 
ped,  and  for  ten  hours  daily  the  streets  were  thronged  with  motley 
crowds  of  railroad  men,  Mexicans  and  Indians,  gamblers,  "cappers," 
and  saloon-keepers,  merchants,  miners,  and  mule-whackers.  The 
streets  were  eight  inches  deep  in  white  dust  as  I  entered  the  city  of 
canvas  tents  and  pole-houses ;  the  suburbs  appeared  as  banks  of  dirty 
white  lime,  and  a  new  arrival  with  black  clothes  looked  like  nothing 
so  much  as  a  cockroach  struggling  through  a  flour  barrel. 


"  ONLY  A  MEMORY." 

Benton  is  only  a  memory  now.  A  section  house  by  the  road-side,  a 
few  piles  of  adobes,  tin  cans  and  other  debris  mark  the  site  where  sales 
to  the  amount  of  millions  were  made  in  two  months.  The  genesis  and 
evolution  of  these  evanescent  railroad  cities  was  from  the  overland 
trade.  Two  hundred  thousand  people  in  Colorado,  Utah,  Montana  and 
Idaho  had  to  be  supplied  from  the  States,  and  every  ounce  of  freight 
sent  them  was  formerly  hauled  from  six  to  sixteen  hundred  miles.  This 
trade  successively  built  up  Independence,  Westport,  Kansas  City,  Atch- 
ison,  Leavenworth  and  Omaha ;  but  as  soon  as  the  Union  Pacific  was 
started  it  took  that  route.  Hence  those  "roaring  towns"  at  the  suc- 
cessive termini,  which  sprang  up  like  Jonah's  gourd,  and  in  most  cases 
withered  away  as  suddenly  when  the  road  passed  on.  First  on  the  list 
was  Columbus,  Nebraska,  and  then  Fort  Kearney,  where  George 
Francis  Train  confidently  located  the  geographical  center  of  the  United 
States,  and  future  capital,  and  invested  his  money  and  his  hopes. 
Kearney  is  now  a  prosperous  country  village  and  Train  a  harmless 
lunatic.  North  Platte  suddenly  rose  from  a  bare  sand  bank  to  a  city 
of  4,000  people,  with  banks,  insurance  offices  and  city  government,  an 


52  WESTERN  WILDS. 

aristocracy  and  common  people,  old  settlers  and  first  families.  Three 
months  after  it  consisted,  in  the  sarcastic  language  of  the  Julesburgers, 
of  a  hotel,  two  saloons,  a  bakery,  section-house  and  another  saloon. 
Then  came  Julesburg,  the  wickedest  city  on  the  list.  For  sixty-three 
days  there  was  a  homicide  every  day ;  ten  dance  houses  ran  all  night, 
and  thirty  saloons  paid  license  to  the  evanescent  corporation. 

The  rise  culminated  at  Cheyenne;  thenceforward  Laramie,  Benton, 
Green  River  City  and  Bryan  grew  successively  smaller,  and  Bear 
River  City  closed  the  chapter  with  a  carnival  of  crime  ending  in  a 
pitched  battle  between  citizens  and  roughs,  in  which  twelve  men  were 
killed  and  twenty  wounded.  But  the  history  would  be  incomplete 
without  the  annals  of  Wahsatch,  built  upon  the  summit  of  Wasatch 
Mountains,  7,000  feet  above  the  sea,  in  ten  days  of  January,  1869, 
while  the  mercury  ranged  from  zero  to  ten  degrees  below.  Despite 
the  intense  cold,  the  sound  of  hammer  and  saw  was  heard  day  and 
night,  and  restaurants  were  fitted  up  in  such  haste  that  meals  were 
served  while  the  carpenters  were  putting  on  the  second  thickness  of 
weatherboarding.  I  ate  my  first  breakfast  there  in  one  where  the  mer- 
cury stood  at  five  degrees  below  zero !  A  drop  of  the  hottest  coffee 
spilled  upon  the  cloth  froze  in  a  minute,  while  gravy  and  butter  solid- 
ified in  spite  of  the  swiftest  eater. 

It  was  a  "  wicked  city."  During  its  lively  existence  of  three 
months  it  established  a  graveyard  with  forty -three  occupants,  of  whom 
not  one  died  of  disease.  Some  were  killed  by  accident;  a  few  got 
drunk  and  were  frozen ;  three  were  hanged,  and  several  killed  in  a  fight 
or  murdered;  one  "girl"  stifled  herself  with  charcoal  fumes,  and 
another  inhaled  sweet  death  from  subtle  chloroform. 

Transactions  in  real  estate  in  all  these  towns  were,  of  course,  most 
tiUcertain ;  and  every  thing  that  looked  solid  was  a  sham.  Red  brick 
fronts,  brown  stone  fronts,  and  stuccoed  walls,  were  found  to  have  been 
made  to  order  in  Chicago,  and  shipped  in  (pine)  sections.  Ready-> 
made  houses  were  finally  sent  out  in  lots,  boxed,  marked  and  num- 
bered ;  half  a  dozen  men  could  erect  a  block  in  a  day,  and  two  boys 
with  screw-drivers  put  up  a  "  habitable  dwelling "  in  three  hours.  A 
very  good  gray-stone  stucco  front,  with  plain  sides,  twenty  by  forty 
tent,  could  be  had  for  three  hundred  dollars ;  and  if  one's  business  hap- 
pened to  desert  him,  or  the  town  moved  on,  he  only  had  to  take  his 
store  to  pieces,  ship  it  on  a  platform  car  to  the  next  city,  and  set  up 
again.  There  was  a  pleasing  versatility  of  talent  in  the  population  of 
such  towns. 

To  return  to  Benton.     The  Mormon  converts  were  going  forward 


THE  JOURNEY  TO    UTAH.  53 

in  large  parties;  4,000  left  Europe  for  Utah  in  1868,  that  being  the 
largest  emigration  of  any  year  since  the  Church  was  founded.  The 
number  of  arrivals  now  scarcely  equals  that  of  the  apostates.  Freight- 
ing to  Salt  Lake  was  also  active,  and  teamsters  being  in  demand,  I 
took  a  position  as  engineer  of  a  six-mule  team,  at  a  salary  of  forty  dol- 
lars per  month.  Our  "  outfit "  numbered  ten  wagons,  sixty-one  mules 
and  sixteen  men,  including  a  night-herder,  wagon-boss  and  four  passen- 
gers. The  four  hundred  miles  to  Salt  Lake  occupied  four  weeks,  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  being  through  deserts  of  sand,  soda  and  alkali,  where 
we  thought  ourselves  fortunate  in  finding  a  patch  of  bunch-grass  once 
every  twenty-four  hours.  The  first  night  we  formed  corral  at  Raw- 
lins  Springs,  and  the  next  in  a  walled  basin  on  the  old  stage*  road,  at 
what  is  called  "  Dug  Springs."  In  the  center  of  the  basin  was  an  alka- 
line lake  which,  moved  by  the  evening  breeze,  looked  like  foaming 
soapsuds;  but  on  its  margin  was  a  spring  of  pure  water.  Thence  we 
moved  on  to  the  "  Divide  of  the  Continent,"  a  plateau  of  sand  and  rock, 
dotted  with  alkaline  lakes  in  which  "cat-fish  with  legs,"  as  plainsmen 
style  them,  are  abundant.  I  afterward  saw  tne  same  species  at  Cafion 
Bonito,  Arizona,  where  the  Navajo  boys  shot  their  arrows  through 
them  to  secure  me  a  few  specimens.  Science  classes  them  as  siredons, 
a  species  of  lizards. 

Leaving  this  unpleasant  country  by  way  of  Bridger's  Pass,  we  were 
soon  upon  the  westward  slope,  and  for  three  days  toiled  down  Bitter 
Creek — the  horror  of  overland  teamsters — where  all  possible  ills  of 
western  travel  are  united.  At  daybreak  we  rose,  stiff  with  cold,  to 
catch  the  only  temperate  hour  for  driving.  By  nine  A.  M.  the  heat 
•\vas  most  exhausting.  The  road  was  worked  up  into  a  bed  of  blinding 
white  dust  by  the  laborers  on  the  railroad  grade,  and  a  gray  mist  of 
ash  and  earthy  powder  hung  over  the  valley,  which  obscured  the  sun,  • 
but  did  not  lessen  its  heat.  At  intervals  the  "  Twenty-mile  Desert," 
the  "  Red  Sand  Desert,"  and  the  "  White  Desert "  crossed  our  way, 
presenting  beds  of  sand  and  soda,  through  which  the  half-choked  men 
and  animals  toiled  and  struggled,  in  a  dry  air  and  under  a  scorching 
sky.  In  vain  the  yells  and  curses  of  the  teamsters  doubled  and  re- 
doubled, blasphemies  that  one  might  expect  to  inspire  a  mule  with  dia- 
bolical strength;  in  vain  the  fearful  "black-snake"  curled  and  popped 
over  the  animals'  backs,  sometimes  gashing  the  skin,  and  sometimes 
raising  welts  the  size  of  one's  finger.  For  a  few  rods  they  would  strug- 
gle on,  dragging  the  heavy  load  through  the  clogging  banks,  and  then 
stop  exhausted,  sinking  to  their  knees  in  the  hot  and  ashy  heaps.  Then 
two  of  us  would  unite  our  teams  and  drag  through  to  the  next  solid 


54 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


piece  of  ground,  where,  for  a  few  Hundred  yards,  the  wind  had  remove^ 
the  loose  heaps,  and  left  bare  the  flinty  and  gravelly  subsoil.  Thus, 
by  most  exhausting  labor,  we  accomplished  ten  or  twelve  miles  a  day. 
Half  an  hour  or  more  of  temperate  coolness  then  gave  us  respite  till 
soon  after  sundown,  when  the  cold  wind  came  down,  as  if  in  heavy  vol- 
umes, from  the  snowy  range,  ami  tropic  heat  was  succeeded  by  arctic 
cold  with  amazing  suddenness.  On  the  27th  of  August  my  mules 
were  exhausted  with  heat;  that  night  ice  formed  in  our  buckets  as 
thick  as  a  pane  of  glass. 

Thence  across  Green  River  we  found  Bridger  Plains  and  the  valley 

of  Bear  River  delightful  by  comparison, 
and  at  noon  of  September  4th  passed  the 
summit  of  the  Wasatch  and  entered  Echo 
Canon.  Two  days  we  traveled  down  this 
great  ravine,  enjoying  a  succession  of  ro- 
mantic views — sometimes  down  in  the  very 
bed  of  the  stream,  and  sometimes  far  up 
the  rocky  sides  of  the  cliff,  where  the 
"dug- way"  wound  in  and  out  along  the 
projecting  "  benches."  Emerging  thence 
into  Weber  Valley,  we  came  upon  the  first 
gardens  and  cultivated  fields  I  had  seen  for 
a  thousand  miles.  The  Mormon  dwellings 
would  have  appeared  poor  and  mean  in- 
deed in  the  States,  but  to  one  just  from  the 
barren  plains  the  valley  was  pretty  enough. 
The  railroad  now  runs  down  Weber  Cafion, 
but  we  followed  the  old  stage  and  wagon  road  southward  up  the  Weber 
and  over  the  divide  into  Parley's  Park. 

Thence  down  the  wild  gorge  known  as  Parleys  Cafion,  where  every 
turn  brings  to  view  a  fresh  delight  in  the  sublime  and  beautiful ;  and 
out  upon  the  "  bench,"  on  the  evening  of  September  9th,  we  saw  the 
great  valley  of  Jordan,  and  the  Salt  Lake  spreading  far  to  the  north 
and  west.  Twenty  miles  westward  the  Oquirrh  Range  glowed  in  the 
clear  air,  a  shining  mass  of  blue  and  white.  Great  Salt  Lake  ex- 
tended beyond  our  sight  to  the  northward,  its  surface  glisten- 
ing in  the  light  of  the  declining  sun,  while  to  our  right  the 
"  City  of  the  Saints "  as  yet  appeared  but  a  white  spot  on  the  land- 
scape. To  our  left  the  caflon  of  the  Jordan  seemed  to  close,  giving  the 
impression  that  that  stream  poured  from  the  hills,  while  down  the  cen- 
ter of  the  valley  the  river  shone  like  a  glimmering  band  of  silver.  A 


PULPIT  ROCK:  ECHO  CASON. 


THE  JOURNEY  TO   UTAH. 


55 


little  farther  and  I  marked  the  great  dome  of  the  Tabernacle,  and  then 
the  smaller  buildings  of  Salt  Lake  City,  rise  out  of  the  evening  mirage, 
with  only  the  interest  of  a  traveler,  and  little  thinking  of  the  years  in 
which  that  was  to  be  my  home,  or  in  what  mysterious  ways  I  was  to  be 
identified  with  its  social  and  political  combats. 


THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE,  UTAH. 


But  before  I  enter  on  the  hackneyed  themes  of  Utah  and  Mormon- 
ism,  allow  me,  indulgent  reader,  to  relieve  the  tedium  of  a  merely  per- 
sonal narrative  by  giving  the  story  of  one  who  sought  the  Westera 
Wilds  from  more  heroic  motives  than  mine. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


GEFFROY'S  TRIALS. 

WE  sat,  my  partner  Robert  Geffroy  and  I,  upon  the  rocky  slope  of 
Griffith  Mountain,  that  looks  down  upon  Georgetown,  Colorado.  Two 
thousand  feet  below  us  the  city  seemed  sunk  in.  a  great  cleft  in  the 
earth ;  around  it  rose  on  all  sides  precipitous  mountains,  their  summits 
still  covered  with  snow,  though  the  June  sun  shone  Avarm  upon  them, 
and  the  little  pools  fed  by  rivulets  from  the  snow  banks  were  bordered 

by  bright  flowers.  At  our  feet 
the  brawling  brook  formed  a 
clear  pool,  the  usual  resting 
place  of  those  who  walked  to 
the  summit;  a  little  below  it 
plunged  by  a  series  of  musical 
cascades  into  a  granite  cafion, 
and  was  lost  among  the  foot 
hills.  While  our  side  of  the 
mountain  was  still  in  shadow, 
beyond  the  town  the  line  of 
shade  and  morning  sunlight 
crept  slowly  down  the  face  of 
Republican  Mountain.  My 
companion  gazed  long  and 
earnestly  upon  the  sublime 
"WB  SAT  UPON  THE  .ROCKY  SLOPE  OF  GRIFFITH  scenery  with  that  gentle  melan- 
MOUNTAIN."  choly  which  habitually  shaded 

his  fine  countenance.  At  length  his  dark  eye,  beautiful  Avith  the  clear 
depth  peculiar  to  the  Swiss  mountaineer,  moistened  a  little,  and  he  fell 
into  one  of  his  rare  poetical  moods.  I  had  shared  Avith  him  the  vicis- 
situdes of  a  miner's  life,  and  had  found  the  usually  taciturn  man  of 
some  fifty  years  a  most  pleasing  companion.  Never  intemperate,  as 
were  so  many  of  the  older  miners,  never  garrulous  or  boastful,  there 
were  yet  times  when  some  undercurrent  of  intense  thought  bubbled  to 
the  surface ;  then,  in  free  converse  in  our  cabin,  he  Avas  the  most  fas- 
cinating of  men.  His  language,  with  just  enough  of  foreign  accent, 

156) 


GEFFROY'S   TRIALS.  57 

was  that  of  one  who  had  learned  it  from  books  rather  than  men ;  his 
musical  voice  gave  utterance  to  sentences  loaded  with  poetic  thoughts, 
and  his  lightest  remark  would  have  borne  the  test  of  severest  criticism. 
To  me  he  seemed  a  man  of  naturally  ardent  temperament  and  high 
aims,  but  thwarted  and  long  repressed,  with  mind  turned  perhaps  to 
unhealthful  introspection.  But  to-day  he  was  in  an  unusual  mood ;  he 
had  just  passed  through  one  of  his  seasons  of  deep  sadness,  and,  as  it 
were,  unconsciously,  sought  relief  in  friendly  confidences.  A  light  re- 
mark from  me  on  the  many  uncertainties  and  disappointments  of  a 
miner's  life  led  us  on  to  a  free  discussion  of  the  vexed  questions  of  free 
will  and  destiny. 

"Are  we,"  he  asked,  "  indeed  the  authors  of  our  course  ?  do  we  suc- 
ceed by  our  own  endeavors  or  fail  by  our  own  errors?  or  is  there  a 
chain  of  circumstances  running  concurrent  with  our  daily  lives,  and 
ever  shaping  them  to  alien  issues  ?" 

I  defended  with  vehemence  my  views  that  we  all  make  or  mar  our 
own  fortunes.  He  listened  calmly,  and  replied : 

"  Hear,  then,  my  story,  and  learn  how  often  the  great  movements  of 
war  and  politics  crush  the  humblest  lives,  and  that  not  his  own  acts 
merely,  but  the  acts  of  all  his  contemporaries,  determine  one's  destiny." 

Thus  began  a  series  of  confidences,  which,  continued  some  evenings 
in  our  cabin,  gave  me  the  incidents  of  an  eventful  though  humble  life. 
*  #  #  #  *  *  # 

"  I  am,  as  you  know,  a  native  of  beautiful  Geneva,  and  my  first  rec- 
ollections are  of  grand  mountains,  mirror-like  lakes,  and  old  monu- 
ments. Mine  was  a  childhood  of  rare  happiness.  My  Swiss  mother 
united  to  the  earnest  vigor  of  her  race  that  wondrous  insight  into  the 
nature  and  feelings  of  childhood,  which  seems  a  special  gift  of  God  to 
the  German  people.  My  French  father,  while  he  had  none  of  that 
levity  or  cynic  indifference  to  all  religions  which  so  many  of  that  race 
affect,  was  yet  happily  free  from  superstition,  jealous  of  priestcraft,  and, 
for  one  in  his  position,  quite  a  devotee  of  learning.  From  our  English 
visitors  and  customers  I  early  acquired  a  smattering  of  their  language, 
and  some  vague  ideas  of  that  liberty  which  I  then,  in  childish  igno- 
rance, supposed  they  enjoyed. 

"  Our  family  life  is  now  present  to  my  memory  as  a  happy  union  of 
social  love  and  intellect.  My  father  recited  the  poems  of  Racine  and 
Corneille,  my  mother  rehearsed  the  fairy  legends  of  her  people ;  both 
delighted  in  the  heroic  annals  of  the  Genevese,  and  loved  to  dwell  on 
the  better  days  of  that  people.  Around  us  was  the  sublime  scenery  of 
Switzerland;  our  associations  were  largely  with  cultivated  travelers, 


58  WESTERN  WILDS. 

and  poetry  was  inwrought  with  ray  childish  nature.  But  my  father 
was  still  Frenchman  enough  to  be  given  to  the  contemplation  of  vast 
systems  of  social  philosophy — that  peculiarly  French  philosophy  which 
takes  great  and  comprehensive  principles  on  trust,  and  believes  that 
man,  once  they  are  taught  him,  charmed  by  their  beauty  and  symme- 
try, will  gladly  embrace  them.  The  federation  of  the  world,  the  equal- 
ization of  conditions,  the  abolition  of  poverty — these  were  the  themes 
that  charmed  his  leisure  hours,  when  not  employed  in  the  struggle  to 
further  increase  the  inequality  that  was  already  great  between  him  and 
his  poorer  neighbors.  How  pleasing  is  that  philosophy  by  which  great 
principles  are  first  to  be  established,  upon  which  society  and  govern- 
ment are  to  be  constructed  like  geometrical  figures,  and  people  mod- 
eled to  fit  and  adopt  them ;  but  how  much  more  practical  and  sensible 
that  cautious  progress  of  your  people  and  the  English,  which  is  taught 
by  events,  and  is  sometimes  willing  to  learn  humbly  at  the  tribunal  of 
facts. 

"On  such  a  nature  as  mine  the  daily  hearing  of  these  things  had 
momentous  influence.  Had  I  been  bred  to  trade,  it  might  have  gone 
well.  Commerce  would  have  corrected  the  errors  of  an  overheated 
imagination,  and  contact  writh  men  as  they  are,  proved  a  healthful  cor- 
rective to  too  much  contemplation  of  them  as  they  might  bt,.  But  my 
ambitious  parents,  who  were  vastly  improved  in  circumstances  by  the 
prosperous  years  that  succeeded  the  general  peace,  and  the  return  tide 
of  English  travel,  determined  to  bestow  upon  their  only  son  a  classical 
education,  at  that  day  in  Geneva  thought  to  be  the  key  to  all  prefer- 
ments in  church  or  state.  Even  now  I  feel  a  pang  at  what  must  have 
been  the  keenness  of  their  disappointment.  Once  entered  upon  my 
classical  studies,  a  new  world  was  opened  to  my  impressible  mind. 
Mythology  I  found  but  dull — how  could  so  grand  a  people  have  be- 
lieved in  such  filthy  deities? — but  the  heroes  of  classic  annals  set  my 
very  soul  on  fire.  Could  it  be  that  such  men  had  lived — men  that  died 
by  battalions  for  the  honor  of  their  country,  or  ran  upon  their  swords 
rather  than  survive  her  liberty?  I  panted  as  I  read,  I  breathed  the 
very  spirit  of  Livy ;  I  shed  tears  over  what  other  school-boys  called 
the  dull  pages  of  Tacitus.  In  moments  of  such  enthusiasm,  I  had  but 
to  close  my  eyes  and  recite  the  sonorous  lines,  and  at  once  before  me 
rushed  the  awful  pageant  of  the  returning  conqueror:  his  triumphal 
car,  the  captured  enemies  of  his  country  walking  behind  it,  the  blare 
of  trumpets,  the  tramp  of  victorious  legions,  while  the  welkin  rang 
with  the  shouts  of  Roman  thousands.  I  struggled  with  the  patriots 
of  Thermopylae,  I  defended  the  bridge  with  Horatius,  with  Dcntaltis 


GEFFEOY'S   TRIALS.  59 

I  bared  my  breast  to  traitors,  I  ran  upon  my  sword  in  the  despair  of 
Brutus. 

"  But  when  I  read  the  bright  annals  of  Geneva's  better  days,  it  was 
as  though  I  had  breathed  an  intoxicating  incense;  and  in  the  Refor- 
mation I  found  a  vein  of  antique  heroism.  Calvin,  Pascal,  the  Wai- 
dense,  the  Albigense,  I  wept  over  their  sorrows  and  trials,  was  warmed 
with  their  struggles,  and  glad  in  their  triumphs.  Not  their  religion, 
but  the  exaltation  of  their  patriotism  excited  me.  How  dull,  then, 
seemed  the  common-place  life  of  our  trading  town,  how  mean  its  petty 
economies;  and  how  unworthy  the  destiny  my  parents  had  so  fondly 
imagined  for  me.  The  beautiful  land  and  city  which  patriot  reformers 
had  early  saved  from  papal  Rome,  now  seemed  given  up  to  the  gods  of 
materialism  and  sold  wholly  to  the  commercial  Satan.  I  was  blinded 
to  the  heroism  of  common  life — the  true  greatness  of  the  many  who 
daily  toil  and  suffer  for  those  they  love. 

"Before  reaching  my  eighteenth  year  I  fully  determined  to  seek  a 
land  where  political  systems  were  yet  to  be  developed,  and  might  be 
modeled  upon  abstract  equity.  I  would  be  a  citizen  of  the  Republic 
of  Humanity.  But  where  was  such  a  land  to  be  found  ?  The  revolu- 
tion of  1830  had  only  resulted  in  giving  France  another  king;  and 
their  so-called  moderate  monarchy  I  looked  upon  with  abhorrence. 
Like  my  classic  models,  I  believed  the  very  name  of  king  incompatible 
with  freedom.  England  was  still  less  tolerable.  I  associated  it  with 
all  that  was  hateful  in  titles  and  hereditary  privileges.  The  New 
World  was  the  place  to  look  for  the  Brotherhood  of  Man ;  for  the  very 
air  of  Europe  was  poisoned  with  priestcraft,  and  its  soil  barren  of  high 
resolve.  The  South  American  States  were  struggling  toward  an  auton- 
omy, but,  with  the  subtle  instinct  of  the  Teutonic  blood,  I  distrusted 
the  lofty  professions  of  a  Latin  race.  Their  short-lived  liberty  dem- 
onstrated an  inherent  incapacity  to  respect  the  individual  right,  and 
their  young  republic  was  only  old  despotism  under  new  names  and 
forms.  Republics,  I  was  persuaded,  could  not  coexist  with  priests ;  for 
with  their  politics  I  had  nearly  rejected  my  people's  religion. 

"  With  the  little  sum  I  could  gain  by  long  pleading  with  my  parents, 
I  sought  this  republic,  persuaded  that  here,  when  one  met  a  man,  he 
met  a  brother. 

"  Need  I  say  that  I  was  cruelly  disappointed.  Without  nobility,  there 
was  almost  equal  caste ;  and  without  old  families,  there  was  equal 
tyranny  in  the  new.  Wealth  and  color  made  classes  as  widely  diver- 
gent as  rank  and  birth,  and  in  the  boasted  land  of  liberty,  one-tenth 
of  the  whole  population  were  bondsmen.  The  republic  was  ruled  by 


60  WESTERN   WILDS. 

an  oligarchy  of  slaveholders,  and  along  the  same  paths  trod  by  Wash- 
ington, black  men  were  chased  by  republicans,  or  torn  by  blood-hounds, 
for  the  crime  of  seeking  freedom,  in  sight  of  the  very  school-houses 
where  boys  declaimed  in  praise  of  William  Tell.  I  visited  the  various 
communes,  where  a  few  enthusiastic  spirits  had  sought  to  establish  the 
Human  Brotherhood  on  a  basis  of  perfect  equality.  At  New  Harmony 
I  found  the  short-lived  experiment  already  a  failure.  Communia  was 
even  less  satisfactory.  The  religious  communes  I  found  intolerable 
from  their  plentiful  lack  of  common  sense ;  and  in  the  others  observed 
a  grossness  of  conception  that  raised  in  my  mind  a  wonder,  not  that 
they  failed,  but  that  they  should  ever  have  been  established.  I  turned 
my  steps  toward  Nauvoo,  then  rising  into  prominence  as  the  last  and 
greatest  attempt  to  establish  a  religious  brotherhood.  But  there  I 
found  all  the  evils  of  the  old  systems,  with  few  of  their  corresponding 
benefits :  priestcraft  without  its  paternal  care,  greed  without  a  thought 
of  future  reckoning  insuring  the  defeat  of  its  own  aims,  and  a  fanat- 
icism which  scorned  the  commonest  suggestions  of  prudence.  That 
such  a  community  would  soon  or  late  come  into  conflict  with  the 
neighboring  Americans,  was  certain. 

"From  Nauvoo,  in  the  early  months  of  1842,  I  visited  St.  Louis, 
meeting  there  an  agent  of  the  American  Fur  Company,  with  whom  I 
took  employment.  I  was  nearly  cured  of  my  early  dreams,  but  still 
hoped  that  a  land  might  be  found  where  humanity  would  have  a  fairer 
chance,  and  rank  and  wealth  confer  no  greater  power  than  morals  and 
intellect.  I  sought  the  Western  Wilds  to  commune  with  nature  in  her 
unbroken  solitudes,  convinced  that  there,  at  least,  the  few  residents  were 
as  brothers.  But  humanity's  weakness  is  common  alike  to  the  city  and 
the  desert.  On  the  vast  plains,  and  amid  the  majestic  mountains,  wherever 
man  meets  man,  the  struggle  goes  on  even  more  fiercely,  though  not 
more  earnestly,  than  beneath  the  smooth  surface  of  urban  society. 
Every-where  the  strong  and  ambitious  are  struggling  to  the  front,  the 
weak  and  unskillful  falling  to  the  rear.  Under  the  pressure  of  com- 
mon danger  or  common  want,  the  pioneers  do  indeed  become  'as 
brothers,  for  the  safety  of  each  is  the  good  of  all ;  but  the  danger 
passed  or  the  want  supplied,  egotism  asserts  itself  even  more  fiercely 
for  its  temporary  repression.  Even  as  you  have  seen  the  unhurt  buffa- 
loes gore  a  wounded  mate  to  death,  lest  its  struggles  and  bellowings 
attract  the  beast  of  prey,  so  the  rushing  crowd  can  not  pause,  lest  he 
who  is  up  to-day  go  down  to-morrow. 

"February,  1843,  found  me  at  Fort  Lancaster  on  the  Platte,  without 
any  particular  aim.  There  I  met  Colonel  Warfield,  in  the  service  of 


QEFFROY'S  TRIALS.  61 

the  young  republic  of  Texas,  bearing  a  commission  adorned  with  the 
bold  signature  of  Sam  Houston,  President.  I  was  then  twenty-two 
years  of  age,  and  seriously  debating  with  myself  whether  I  should  not 
gladden  the  hearts  of  my  parents  by  a  return  to  the  sober  life  of 
Geneva.  A  few  years  had  done  wonders  for  me.  Practical  life  had 
taught  me  to  dream  no  more  of  the  Brotherhood  of  Man ;  that  liberty 
and  progress  are  to  be  secured  by  no  cunningly  devised  schemes,  but 
earned  by  slow  and  toilsome  steps  of  the  individual,  and  that 
priestcraft  and  despotism  can  not  be  argued  out,  but  must  be  suffered 
out.  But  I  saw  more  clearly  that  a  free  republic,  with  all  its  faults,  is 
still  the  best  attainable  government,  and  a  brief  acquaintance  with 
Colonel  Warfield  revived  much  of  my  old  enthusiasm.  The  Texans 
had  freed  themselves  from  the  tyrannous  domination  of  another  race, 
and  were  struggling  toward  a  more  perfect  liberty,  and  instinctively  I 
sympathized  with  them.  With  heightened  color  and  eye  glowing  with 
patriotic  ardor,  Colonel  Warfield  recounted  the  undying  glories  of  the 
Alamo,  where  Crockett,  Travis  and  their  brave  companions  died  fight- 
ing to  the  last;  of  Goliad,  Corpus  Christi  and  San  Jacinto.  It  was 
to  me  the  classic  age  restored.  Heroes  walked  the  earth  again.  There 
were  giants  in  that  land  and  in  those  days.  But  when  he  unfolded  the 
bullet-riddled  flag  that  had  waved  over  Corpus  Christi,  and  told  of 
the  brave  men  who  there  died  beneath  its  folds,  I  was  filled  with  zeal 
to  emulate  their  heroism. 

"  When  he  called  for  volunteers,  a  start  only  was  needed,  and,  fol- 
lowing my  example,  a  dozen  men  promptly  enrolled  their  names.  We 
were  to  be  part  of  a  volunteer  company  of  riflemen,  the  remainder  to 
join  us  at  the  rendezvous  just  beyond  the  Arkansas,  on  the  Rio  de  las 
Animas,  in  what  was  then  Mexican  territory.  We  were  to  act  as 
a  corps  of  observation  to  assist  the  main  army,  then  on  its  way  from 
Texas,  and  were  enlisted  for  nine  months,  each  man  to  furnish  his  own 
horse,  gun,  and  accoutrements.  The  others  accompanied  Colonel 
Warfield  at  once,  but  settlement  with  the  company  detained  me  ten 
days,  and  I  set  out  alone  on  the  9th  of  March.  A  snow-storm  had 
raged  for  a  week,  and,  with  a  great  deal  of  suffering,  I  made  my  way 
alone  to  the  mouth  of  the  Fontaine  Que  Bouille,  and  thence,  with  a 
single  companion,  to  the  rendezvous.  Disappointment  awaited  me. 
The  expected  detachment  from  the  States  had  not  arrived,  and  our 
whole  force  numbered  but  twenty-four  men — adventurers,  apparently, 
from  every  clime  under  heaven,  and  well  supplied  as  to  arms  and 
horses.  They  were  uniformed  in  dazzling  variety,  but  in  one  respect 
harmoniously — a  uniform  of  furs,  blankets,  and  rags ! 


62 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


<t 


If  I  was  amazed  at  the  appearance  of  these  patriots,  how  much 
more  was  I  confounded  by  their  language !  Can  I  record  their  con- 
versation, their  absurd  views  of  political  morality,  their  desires,  their 
hopes !  A  few  were,  I  trust,  like  myself,  acting  from  pure  love  of 
liberty,  a  few  for  the  good  of  the  republic,  more  from  a  hope  of  gain, 
and  most  from  the  pure  abandon  of  Western  character.  But  from  the 
eyes  of  all  gleamed  a  good  nature  that  gave  hope  of  social  comfort  and 
safety  among  them,  while  the  cheerful  frankness  with  which  they  spoke 
of  their  past  indicated  too  plainly  that  a  few  of  them  felt  more  comfortable 


TO    THE    RENDEZVOUS. 


beyond  the  reach  of  legal  process.  One  young  man,  whose  conversa- 
tion showed  some  culture,  evinced  great  anxiety  to  form  a  junction 
with  the  main  army,  and  penetrate  at  once  into  the  Mexican  settle- 
ments— and  no  wonder.  I  afterwards  learned  that  he  had  left  St. 
Louis  impromptu,  somewhat  in  arrears  in  his  accounts  with  a  bank  in 
which  he  had  been  employed.  His  most  intimate  companion  was 
equally  eager  for  an  early  advance.  The  friends  of  a  lady  in  Ohio,  he 
frankly  stated,  had  given  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble — all  uncalled  for, 


GEFFKOY'S   TRIALS.  63 

he  insisted ;  but  the  laws  of  that  Puritanic  commonwealth  were  odi- 
ous and  tyrannical  upon  social  subjects.  He  was  an  ardent  advocate 
of  individual  liberty.  Another  avowed  himself  weary  of  a  life  of 
hardships  on  the  mountains  and  plains;  he  was  going  down  into 
Mexico  for  a  little  rest.  His  right-hand  neighbor  had  left  the 
States  because  he  was  tired  of  a  humdrum  life ;  he  wanted  a  change. 
One  went  for  variety,  another  to  find  a  location ;  all  seemed  to  think 
the  expedition  a  brief  holiday,  which  was  to  end  in  victory  and  abun- 
dance. They  had  our  future  course  fully  settled:  we  should  travel 
leisurely  across  prairies  rich  in  grass,  thread  cafions  alive  with  game, 
and  effect  a  junction  with  the  Texan  Invincibles.  a  thousand  strong; 
then  march  on  the  settlements,  encounter  perhaps  some  thousands  of 
Mexican  soldiers,  scatter  them  like  the  wind,  dictate  terms  to  Old  Armijo, 
in  Santa  Fe,  make  an  advantageous  peace,  and  settle  down  in  the  mild 
climate  and  on  the  fertile  soil  of  the  Rio  Grande  to  a  life  of  dreamful 
ease.  There  was  much  talk  of  dark-eyed  senoritas,  dowered  with  vast 
ranches,  where  the  contented  owner  would  ride  amid  his  thousands  of 
sheep  and  cattle,  pluck  the  luscious  grape,  and  drink  from  great  casks 
of  red  wine.  This  was  their  romance  ;  the  reality  is  to  come. 

"After  brief  consultation,  a  division  of  forces  was  agreed  upon. 
Fourteen  men,  including  the  Colonel,  were  to  go  down  to  the  '  Cross- 
ing' (where  the  Santa  Fe  trail  crossed  the  Arkansas),  and  await  the 
main  body  of  riflemen  from  the  States,  or  obey  any  orders  from  the 
Texan  force,  while  the  remainder,  among  them  myself,  were  to  proceed 
to  the  point  where  the  Taos  trail  crossed  the  Las  Animas,  and  act  as  a 
scouting  party  until  further  orders.  We  set  out  on  the  21st  of  March, 
under  command  of  a  lieutenant,  a  gallant  and  graceful  polyglot,  who 
gave  command  in  three  languages,  and  joked  and  swore  in  a  dozen 
more  with  inspiring  fluency.  That  day  we  marched  up  the  Timpas, 
then  turned  south  south-west,  toward  the  Las  Animas.  Having  started 
with  but  one  day's  supply  of  provisions,  and  that  of  dried  buffalo  meat, 
we  soon  suffered  for  food.  Our  dependence  was  upon  game,  but  at 
that  season  there  is  little  grass,  and  animals  are  poor  and  shy.  Two 
days  and  three  nights  did  we  toil  over  the  high  and  barren  lands  with- 
out food,  and  only  supplied  with  water  from  the  pools  filled  by  melting 
snow.  Our  horses  were  so  exhausted  that  we  walked  most  of  the  time, 
chewing  only  the  cud  of  bitter  fancies.  Already  the  bright  visions 
with  which  we  set  out  were  dissipated,  and  an  awful  sense  of  impend- 
ing calamity  seemed  to  weigh  down  the  spirits  of  every  one.  The 
third  day  we  killed  a  straggling  wolf,  which  furnished  us  a  miserable 
meal — just  enough  to  excite  a  ravenous  desire  for  something  better. 


64  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Three  days  more  we  fasted,  and  came,  completely  exhausted,  upon  an 
old  Indian  camp,  where  we  found  some  green  buffalo  hides,  which  the 
wolves  had  abandoned.  These  we  scraped  and  boiled  till  we  had  a 
pasty  mixture  resembling  glue  thickened  with  scraps  of  leather,  upon 
which  we  made  a  hearty  meal.  Again  we  fasted  two  days,  and  at 
last,  faint  from  starvation,  descended  into  the  valley  of  Las  Animas. 

"  The  green  growth  here  and  there  greatly  restored  our  horses,  and, 
despite  the  warning  of  the  more  experienced,  some  of  the  men  ventured 
to  eat  the  cactus  bulb,  insisting  that  its  rank  properties  might  be  erad- 
icated by  roasting  it  in  hot  sand  and  ashes,  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
California  Indians  neutralize  the  virus  of  various  roots.  The  first  who 
partook  felt  no  immediate  effects,  and  praised  it  highly,  upon  which  we 
all  ate  greedily,  drinking  freely  at  the  same  time  of  the  slightly  miner- 
alized water  of  the  Las  Animas.  But  two  hours'  time  showed  that  the 
inherent  properties  of  the  cactus  were  but  slightly  neutralized,  if  at  all. 
Strange  tremblings  shook  our  frames,  succeeded  by  dizziness  and  a  de- 
sire to  vomit.  These  were  followed  soon  by  agonizing  pains,  in  which 
the  sufferers  rolled  upon  the  ground  in  fearful  contortions,  and  uttering 
heart-rending  cries.  It  was  a  night  of  unmitigated  misery.  All  recov- 
ered, but  so  weak  that  only  three  of  the  party  were  able  to  move  about. 
It  was  simply  impossible  to  proceed,  or  even  hunt  for  game.  Accord- 
ingly lots  were  cast  between  the  horses,  and  the  one  thus  condemned 
was  slaughtered  for  food.  On  this  we  made  a  most  delicious  meal,  al- 
ternately resting  and  eating  at  frequent  intervals  all  day.  Late  at 
night  we  were  so  far  restored  that  we  feasted  with  glad  hearts,  and 
again  the  camp  resounded  with  jokes,  songs,  and  laughter.  All  were 
clamorous  to  advance  at  once  on  the  Mexican  settlements.  Daily  I 
saw  more  and  more  that  mountaineers  are  much  like  children — unduly 
confident  when  all  goes  well,  and  correspondingly  gloomy  under  the 
pressure  of  distress.  The  equal  mind,  preserved  in  arduous  toils  and 
fortune's  sunshine,  product  of  a  higher  mental  cultivation,  is  not  often 
theirs;  they  are  elated  by  good  omens,  and  cast  down  by  auguries  of 
ill ;  their  plans  are  often  disturbed  by  the  suggestion  of  night-mare 
dreams,  and  gloomy  apprehensions  seize  them  from  the  unseasonable 
flights  of  birds  or  other  strange  outgivings  of  animal  instinct. 

"  With  restored  strength,  and  some  few  days'  supply  of  food,  we  trav- 
eled up  stream,  and  were  soon  in  the  grand  canon  of  the  Rio  de  las  An- 
imas, as  it  is  called  by  the  Catholic  Spaniards.  This  strange  river, 
with  such  extremes  of  delightful  valley,  barren  waste,  or  gloomy  and 
forbidding  caflon,  has  received  corresponding  names  from  all  races. 
The  Indians  call  it  the  Wild  River,  the  French  christened  it  Piquer 


GEFFHOY'S   TRIALS. 


65 


L'Eau,  or  water  of  suffering,  but  the  pious  Spaniards  name  it  River  of 
Souls,  which  your  unpoetic  but  practical  race  have  shortened  to  Purga- 
tory. We  soon  entered  the  grand  cafion  where  the  stream  cuts  its 
way  through  a  high  and  barren  table-land,  running  in  a  deep  gorge,  with 
almost  perpendicular  sides.  Sometimes  these  crowd 
in  upon  the  stream,  and  fallen  rocks  choke  up  its  bed, 
producing  a  series  of  beautiful  cascades ;  again,  the 
cliffs  recede,  and  leave  a  little  oval  valley,  inclosed 
by  red  and  yellow  walls,  rich  in  grass  and  timber, 
and  often  abounding  in  game.  At  length  we 
reached  a  gorge  too  narrow  and  difficult  for  pass- 
age, and  were  compelled  to  turn  into  a  side  gulch 
and  climb  the  almost  perpendicular  cliff,  at  least  six 
hundred  feet  in  height.  All  day  we  toiled  along  a 
series  of  rocky  offsets,  again  and  again  lifting  our 
horses  over  the  rocks  by  means  of  ropes  attached 
to  their  bodies,  and  at  night-fall  camped  upon  the 
high  mesa.  Thence  we  followed  only  the  general 
course  of  the  Las  Animas  until  we  arrived  at  our  "*' 
destined  post,  which  was  in  a  large  grove  of  cot- 
tonwoods  just  below  where  the  Taos  trail  crosses 
the  stream.  North  and  east  were  the  sandy  des- 
erts, southward  the  tierras  templadas  that  skirt  the 
heads  of  the  Cimarron  and  the  Colorado  tributary  to  CASON  DE  LAS  ANIMAS- 
the  Canadian ;  but  westward  a  more  fertile  plat  rose  even  to  the  foot  of 
the  Huaquetories,  which  your  people  now  call  the  Spanish  Peaks.  There 
we  kept  close  guard  upon  the  trail,  expecting  to  capture  some  of  the 
enemy's  scouts,  but  beyond  that  and  herding  our  stock,  were  free  from 
care.  Grass,  game  and  pure  water  were  abundant,  and  in  a  few  days 
every  man  felt  equal  to  a  hundred  Mexicans.  Again  songs  were  heard, 
and  merriment  reigned  around  the  camp-fire;  again  did  we  hear  of 
that  glorious  future  in  Mexico.  All  the  omens  were  propitious ;  the 
restored  mountaineers  had  good  dreams,  and  the  birds  again  flew  in 
unison  with  their  brightest  hopes. 

"  Doubts  of  my  companions,  which  had  slumbered  in  time  of  toil  and 
trouble,  returned  amid  abundance,  but  were  happily  set. at  rest  by  a 
circumstance  that  soon  occurred.  One  day  our  guards  hailed  a  small 
.  party,  who  fled  northward,  but  were  captured  after  a  sharp  chase  of  sev- 
eral miles.  They  proved  to  be  two  Americans  and  an  Englishman, 
with  two  Mexican  guides  and  servants,  on  their  way  from  Santa  Fe  to 
Fort  Lancaster,  and  thence  to  the  States.  Having  been  successful 


66  WESTERN  WILDS. 

traders,  they  were  well  equipped,  and  had  with  them  a  large  quantity 
of  gold  and  silver ;  but,  after  hearing  their  account,  our  party  released 
them.  It  was  evident  then,  that  whatever  our  men  might  be,  and  how- 
ever unworthy  the  motives  of  some,  they  were  not  marauders. 

"  From  these  travelers  we  received  news  that  greatly  disheartened  us. 
A  European  Spaniard,  who  had  been  in  the  Texan  army  of  invasion 
in  1842,  and  was  then  suspected  of  being  a  spy,  had  reported  himself 
for  reenlistment,  and  been  assigned  to  Colonel  Warfield's  command. 
This  action  caused  unusual  confidence  to  be  reposed  in  him,  and  after 
gleaning  all  the  information  possible,  he  proceeded  by  the  shortest 
route  to  Santa  Fe,  and  laid  the  whole  case  before  the  Mexican  Gov- 
ernor, Armijo.  But  that  worthy  had  received  still  more  circumstantial 
accounts  of  us  from  some  resident  American  traders,  who  had  agents 
out  upon  the  plains,  and  who  were  base  enough  to  betray  the  cause  of 
liberty  for  such  favors  in  the  remission  of  tariff  duties,  and  other  com- 
mercial advantages,  as  a  Mexican  Governor  at  that  time  could  extend. 

"  Soon  after  came  a  messenger  from  Colonel  Warfield  with  orders  to 
join  him  at  Rabbit  Ears,  a  noted  landmark  midway  between  the 
Cimarron  and  Arkansas.  We  had  enough  of  the  Las  Animas,  and  our 
lieutenant  mapped  out  a  new  route,  thus :  south  two  and  a  half  days  to 
the  Cimarron,  thence  down  it  five  days  to  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  and 
thence  north-west  to  Rabbit  Ears.  We  entered  at  once  upon  the  sandy 
plain,  which  continued  all  the  way  to  the  Cimarron.  Sometimes 
cacti  covered  the  sand  so  close  that  every  step  was  dangerous,  or  thick 
clusters  of  greasewood  excluded  all  useful  growth;  and  again  naked 
sterility  denied  footing  to  vegetable  life.  As  we  neared  the  Cimarron, 
the  region  grew  still  more  forbidding.  Behind  us  was  the  desolate 
table-land,  before  us  the  gloomy  mountains;  the  few  water  holes  were 
poisonous  with  alkali  or  other  mineral  salts,  and  the  men,  half  crazed 
with  thirst,  declared  with  profane  emphasis  that  such  a  country  was 
little  worth  fighting  for.  We  descended  through  a  side  gorge  into  the 
cafion  of  the  Cimarron,  winding  along  a  buffalo  trail,  and  upon  a  rocky 
bench  barely  wide  enough  for  our  animals.  The  walls  of  this  fissure 
were  at  least  eight  hundred  feet  high,  and  facing  each  other  at  a 
distance  not  exceeding  twenty-five  yards.  A  large  stone,  loosened  at 
the  beginning  of  our  descent,  shot  downward  with  the  velocity  of  a 
cannon-ball,  while  the  echoes  sounded  from  side  to  side  in  gloomy  re- 
•vefberations.  Once  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  canon,  our  route  was 
easy  enough  along  the  course  of  the  stream;  at  times  in  an  oval 
vale,  adorned  by  heavy  grovqs  and  vocal  with  the  songs  of  birds, 
again  in  a  narrow  cafion,  and  again  out  upon  bare  plats  of  burning  sand. 


GEFFROY'S  TRIALS.  67 

But  whether  the  few  green  plats  were  the  beginning  of  mother  nature's 
mighty  reform,  to  redeem  the  whole  desert,  or  the  last  survivals  in  the 
long  struggle  against  increasing  barrenness,  we  could  not  know.  The 
stream  is  large,  and  the  water  pure  through  this  part  of  its  course, 
but  as  soon  as  we  emerged  upon  the  great  plain,  the  Cimarron  shrunk 
to  a  mere  rivulet,  and  in  a  little  while  vanished  entirely.  Thence  for 
hundreds  of  miles,  it  is  said,  scarcely  a  shrub  or  spear  of  grass  adorns 
its  banks.  The  high  plains  between  the  Cimarron  and  Arkansas  we 
found  even  more  desolate.  There  only  the  transient  showers  and  melt- 
ing snows  of  spring  produce,  in  the  most  fa- 
vored spots,  a  faint  tinge  of  green.  Then  a 

few  pearly  drops  spatter  eras;  and  peak,  or  "'^^KjS^^SSK^L^  // 
..  •&  J.  f .  ,  .  &,  ,  *.  '  „  •\^m£mftmmHir'-\  Hi 
lmg(v,  Qon  the  plain  as  though  desolation  halt 

relented  the  work  she  had  to  do,  or  mother 
nature  sorrowed  for  her  short-lived  offspring ; 
but  soon  all  this  is  passed,  and  summer  with 
scorching  days  and  dewless  nights  hastens  to 
ravish  the  evanescent  beauties  of  spring  and, 
turn  her  green  to  stubble. 

"  Reaching  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  we  met  a 
friendly  party  of  Arapahoes,  who  told  us  that 
four    hundred    Mexican    cavalry    had    gone 
north  in  search  of  us  only  two  days  before.   GETTING  DOWN  TO  THE  CIM- 
As    this    was    confirmed    by    evidences    on 

the  trail,  we  strained  every  nerve  to  get  across  the  desert  and  effect 
a  junction  with  the  rest  of  the  force.  The  season  was  already  well 
advanced,  and,  to  avoid  heat  and  thirst,  we  traveled  as  far  as  possible 
that  night.  During  the  entire  distance  of  some  forty  miles  we  found 
no  water,  and  till  late  the  next  afternoon  men  and  horses  suffered  the 
agonies  of  thirst.  The  animals  finally  became  almost  unmanageable, 
and  our  principal  pack-horse  stampeded,  carrying  off  considerable 
ammunition,  and  could  not  be  recovered.  Coming  up  to  the  rendez- 
vous, what  was  our  disappointment  to  find,  not  the  expected  detach- 
ment from  the  States,  but  the  handful  we  had  left  a  few  weeks  before 
on  the  Arkansas.  Discouragement  and  discontent  now  threatened 
open  mutiny.  The  season  was  late,  and  the  hottest  weather  approach- 
ing ;  the  water-holes  were  fast  drying  up,  the  Mexicans  fully  apprised 
of  our  plans,  and  the  whole  country  on  our  line  of  advance  scoured 
by  their  cavalry.  Colonel  Warfield  hurriedly  set  forth  the  situation ; 
then,  with  one  of  his  nervous  magnetic  appeals,  urged  us  to  strike  at 
least  one  blow  before  retiring.  By  unanimous  vote  a  new  plan  was 


68  WESTERN    WILDS. 

agreed  upon.  It  would  never  do  for  us  to  return  the  way  we  had 
come,  as  every  water-hole  was  guarded,  and  an  ambush  set  in  every 
mountain  pass.  We  must  strike  one  blow,  and  then,  if  the  Texan 
army  never  came,  reach  the  Arkansas  by  a  less  frequented  course. 

"  It  was  decided  to  go  westward  up  the  arroyo  we  were  on,  and  then 
straight  south  to  the  Cimarron  again.  The  two  days  we  followed  the 
arroyo,  grass  was  abundant,  and  water  enough  found  in  the  limestone 
"pockets,"  which  appear  occasionally  along  these  cafions.  Thence 
southward  we  pressed  with  all  possible  speed  day  and  night  over  the 
barren  mesa,  and  when  men  and  horses  were  frantic  with  thirst,  again 
arrived  at  the  Cimarron.  There  we  cached  our  surplus  baggage,  and 
thence  made  another  forced  march  across  the  rocky  table-lands-'  and 
over  a  spur  of  the  Taos  Mountains,  toward  the  nearest  Me$icanftSttle- 
ments.  Halting  in  a  green  depression  of  the  divide  between  the 
waters  flowing  east  and  those  of  the  Rio  Grande,  our  scouts  reported  a 
body  of  sixty  Mexican  cavalry  in  a  fortified  camp  just  ahead,  and  com- 
manding the  only  pass  to  the  settlements.  Further  scouting  dis- 
covered a  point  from  which  our  whole  force  might  overlook  their 
camp.  This  point  we  gained  by  a  circuitous  route  next  day,  and 
camped  in  a  dense  thicket  of  cedars  and  pines.  Below  was  a  consider- 
able valley,  through  which  ran  a  small  stream  bordered  by  cotton- 
wood  and  willow ;  in  a  dense  grove  of  the  former,  and  on  the  farther 
bank  of  the  stream,  was  the  Mexican  camp,  beyond  it  a  narrow  pass 
leading  to  a  small  town.  It  was  agreed  that  we  should  effect  a  sur- 
prise just  beyond  daylight  next  morning,  capture  the  force  if  possible, 
then  make  a  dash  into  the  town  and  retreat  before  they  could  raise  a 
force  sufficient  to  oppose  us. 

"  Soon  after  midnight  we  cautiously  descended  by  a  detour  of  some 
five  miles,  which  brought  us  down  into  the  cottonwood  thicket  nearest 
the  enemy's  camp.  Thence  we  moved  on  slowly  to  the  bank  of  the 
stream,  but  were  disconcerted  to  find  it  three  times  as  large  as  it  had 
appeared  from  the  hill.  After  a  whispered  consultation,  it  was  de- 
cided that  the  enemy's  guards  were  upon  the  opposite  bank  and  might 
be  surprised  and  disarmed.  With  this  view  we  waded  the  almost  ice- 
cold  stream  so  noiselessly  that  we  were  ascending  the  opposite  bank 
when  the  first  sentinel  hailed : 

" l Quienes  veniren  ? '     (Who  comes?) 

" '  Que  dijo  ? '     (What  do  you  say  ?) 

" '  Quienes  veniren  !  Caraho  /'  was  his  response,  as  he  discharged  his 
piece  at  the  nearest  man,  and  fled  into  camp.  We  followed  close,  and 
were  upon  the  soldiers  as  they  rose  from  sleep. 


OEFFROTS  TRIALS.  69 

"  'Munchos  Tejanos !'  (Many  Texans !)  yelled  the  other  sentinels, 
as  our  men  rushed  upon  and  disarmed  them. 

'"Si,  si,  munckos  Tejanos — quieron  los  scoupdas!'  was  the  cry,  as 
we  sprang  to  prevent  them.  The  five  men  named  for  that  duty  had 
secured  most  of  the  arms,  but  a  short,  sharp  struggle  ensued,  in  which 
five  of  the  Mexicans  were  killed  and  as  many  wounded.  But  the  sur- 
prise was  so  complete  that  most  of  them  fled  precipitately  toward  the 
pass.  It  was  impossible  to  secure  our  prisoners  and  the  captured 
arms,  and  collect  our  horses  in  time  to  make  the  intended  attack  upon 
the  village  before  they  could  have  been  fully  aroused  and  prepared. 
We  therefore  hastily  collected  the  arms  and  horses  of  the  fugitives, 
paroled  the  prisoners,  destroyed  every  thing  we  could  not  carry  off, 
and  pushed  with  all  speed  for  the  spur  by  which  we  might  reach  the 
table-lands  to  the  eastward.  Reaching,  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  high 
point  in  the  eastward  pass,  we  thought  ourselves  beyond  pursuit,  and 
halted  for  a  rest.  In  the  general  gayety,  discipline  was  relaxed,  and 
the  guards  stationed  with  the  horses  ventured  to  leave  their  posts  for  a 
few  moments  and  enter  camp.  In  the  midst  of  our  meal  the  shout  was 
heard :  '  There  go  our  horses ! '  and  all  hands  sprang  up  only  to  witness 
our  noble  cavallard  under  full  headway  before  a  body  of  Mexican 
horsemen,  while  at  the  same  instant  a  brisk  fire  was  opened  upon  us 
from  flank  and  rear.  For  an  instant  we  were  paralyzed ;  then  seized 
our  arms,  and,  at  the  word  of  command,  charged  upon  the  enemy  on  the 
hill  in  front.  The  panic-stricken  Mexicans  rushed  down  the  opposite 
slope,  leaving  three  dead  upon  the  ground ;  we  followed,  and  soon 
cleared  the  field  in  all  directions,  till  not  an  enemy  was  in  sight. 
One  of  the  Mexicans  had  been  holding  two  mustangs  in  the  rear  of 
the  attacking  party,  and  though  shot  dead,  still  held  the  halters  tight 
gripped  in  his  hands.  Hurriedly  cutting  them  loose,  the  St.  Louis 
man  and  I  sprang  upon  the  animals,  and,  despite  the  warning  cry  from 
Colonel  Warfield,  dashed  after  the  cavallard,  now  on  the  brow  of  the 
plateau,  two  or  three  miles  away,  and  going  at  full  speed. 

"  It  was  madness,  but  we  had  little  time  to  think.  It  was  death,  we 
considered,  to  lose  our  horses  in  such  a  place,  and  to  die  in  an  attempt 
to  regain  them  could  not  be  worse.  A  gallop  of  a  few  miles,  without 
gaining  on  the  cavallard,  gave  us  time  to  reconsider,  and  we  turned  re- 
gretfully toward  the  camp.  But  as  we  did  so,  a  party  of  at  least  fifty 
Mexican  horsemen  appeared  on  the  way  we  had  come.  A  wild  yell  of 
triumph  rose  upon  the  air,  followed  by  a  shower  of  scoupeta  balls,  one 
of  which  laid  my  companion's  horse  dead,  leaving  its  rider  senseless 
upon  the  ground.  One  instant  I  thought  of  surrender  as  a  prisoner  of 


70  WESTERN  WILDS. 

war.  But  quickly  came  the  thought  that,  in  the  heated  condition  of 
the  enemy,  certain  death  awaited  me  ;  or,  if  not  that,  a  lingering  death 
in  a  Spanish  dungeon.  I  was  nerved  by  desperation,  and  dashed  down 
a  long  slope  to  the  right. 

"From  every  hollow,  from  behind  every  sandy  hillock,  horsemen 
seemed  to  rise,  and  still  I  cleared  them  all.  The  mustang  was  compar- 
atively fresh,  and,  by  frequent  doubling  and  turning,  I  gained  the  ad- 
vance on  a  long  slope,  which  led  westward  to  the  plain.  A  hundred 
Mexican  cavalry  were  strung  out  behind  me,  the  nearest  just  out  of 
range.  Slowly  I  gained  upon  them,  plying  the  spur  savagely,  and  was 
just  beginning  to  breathe  more  freely,  when  suddenly  there  yawned 
before  me  an  arroyo  with  perpendicular  sides,  not  more  than  twenty 
feet  wide,  but  of  unknown  depth.  I  reined  my  mustang  back  upon 
his  haunches  at  the  very  edge  of  the  chasm,  then  turned  to  look  my 
last  upon  the  earth.  How  fair  then  seemed  the  desert,  but  a  little 
while  ago  so  wild  and  waste — how  bright  the  sun — how  majestic  the 
snowy  mountains,  glowing  far  to  the  north  through  the  calm  air  ! 

"A  yell  of  triumph  from  the  enemy  came  with  sudden  jar  upon  my 
ears,  and  close  after  it  a  shower  of  scoupeta  balls ;  one  cut  my  coat- 
sleeve,  while  another  plowed  a  furrow  along  my  cheek.  The  sharp 
"sting  of  pain,  the  flow  of  warm  blood,  the  insulting  yell,  maddened  me. 
I  would  not  die — would  not  consent  to  their  triumph  ;  or,  if  die  I  must, 
I  would  sell  my  life  dearly.  I  turned  and  galloped  fiercely  towards  the 
foe,  discharging  my  pistol  as  I  advanced.  In  sheer  astonishment  at  my 
desperation,  they  drew  up.  Again  animal  fear  reasserted  itself — the 
mad  instinct  for  one  moment  more  of  life — and  I  turned  towards  the 
chasm.  Again  the  fierce,  insulting  yell  of  the  mongrel  cut-throats — 
again  a  shower  of  scoupeta  balls.  And  now  the  enemy  were  near 
enough  for  me  to  hear  their  insulting  laugh — their  discussion  in  bastard 
Spanish  of  the  best  method  to  finish  me  without  danger.  They  came 
on  more  and  more  slowly.  Again  a  few  scoupeta  balls  whistled  around 
me,  and  I  felt  the  sting  of  another  slight  wound. 

"Could  my  mustang  leap  the  chasm?  These  mountain-trained 
beasts  were  active ;  he  was  young  and  strong ;  at  the  worst  it  was  but 
death — death  sudden  and  bravely  dared.  Thus  swifter  than  lightning 
ran  my  thoughts  in  the  awful  presence  of  the  unknown. 

"  Putting  him  at  full  speed,  I  spurred  him  to  the  very  edge,  then, 
rising  in  my  stirrups,  loosed  the  reins  as  he  bravely  took  the  leap.  I 
hear,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  the  loud  yell  from  the  astonished 
Mexicans;  I  see  again  the  frightful  gorge — in  awful  dreams  again  I 
urge  him  to  the  fearful  leap. 


GEFFROY'S   TRIALS. 


71 


"  With  a  tremendous  bound  he  cleared  the  chasm,  landing  with  his 
fore  feet  on  the  opposite  side.  For  one  brief  instant  the  life  of  horse 
and  man  trembled  in  the  balance.  Hope,  despair,  joy,  resignation — 
how  rapidly  I  felt  them  all,  but  only  for  an  instant.  With  deadly  re- 
bound, I  felt  myself  thrown  violently  downward,  and  against  the  op- 
posite side.  Pure  sunlight  changed  to  fiery  red,  and  again  to  dazzling 


FOR  LIFE  OR  DEATH. 


gray ;  my  mother's  sad,  sweet  face  looked  down  an  instant  from  the 
narrowed  sky;  streams  of  fire  darted  from  the  firmament,  and  after 
them  came  darkness  blacker  than  tongue  can  tell.  Blow  after  blow 
was  rained  upon  my  head  ;  my  flesh  was  cut  as  with  sharp  knives.  I 
was  an  age  in  falling,  and  yet  all  was  over  in  an  instant.  Conscious- 
ness yielded,  and  I  sank  down,  down,  down  into  darkness,  oblivion  ! 
Was  it  death  ? 


CHAPTEE  V. 

DOLORES. 

"  WAS  I  in  the  land  of  spirits  ?  Had  the  awful  River  of  Souls  in- 
deed swallowed  me  up  ?  Dense  darkness,  blackness  that  could  be  felt, 
was  around  me.  Every  faculty  was  suspended,  except  simple  con- 
sciousness ;  of  past  or  future  I  had  no  conception — I  only  knew  that  I 
was.  It  must  be  that  I  had  passed  from  earth,  and  this  was  the  region 
into  which  philosophy  had  never  penetrated. 

"  There  was  a  slight  rustle  near  me,  and,  exerting  all  my  force  of 
will,  I  attempted  to  move ;  there  shot  through  me  such  a  pang  of  agony 
that  I  screamed  aloud. 

" ( Ah,  povritta ! '  said  a  soft,  musical  voice,  and  delicate  fingers 
touched  my  forehead,  and  then  were  pressed  upon  my  lips.  I  dimly 
comprehended  that  I  was  to  remain  silent  and  still;  but  my  pain 
was  too  great,  and  I  groaned  again  and  again.  I  now  perceived  that 
my  left  arm  and  leg  were  tightly  bandaged,  and  held  in  rude  wooden 
frames ;  my  head  also  was  covered  with  some  tenacious  strips.  I  was 
helpless  as  a  mummy.  The  gloom  seemed  to  soften;  a  ray  of  light  ap- 
peared here  and  there,  and  a  distant  tinkling  was  heard,  like  the  sound 
of  sheep  bells.  A  cup  was  pressed  to  my  lips ;  I  drank  of  a  bitter  de- 
coction, and  soon  sank  into  a  profound  sleep. 

"When  I  awoke,  comparatively  free  from  pain,  there  was  light 
enough  to  show  that  I  was  lying  on  a  couch  in  a  small  room,  in  which 
some  one  was  moving  about.  The  blanket  which  served  for  a  door 
was  put  aside,  admitting  the  bright  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  and  the 
same  soft  voice  spoke  in  Spanish. 

"  'Are  they  out  of  sight,  Gomez  ?' 

" '  Beyond  El  Sentinel,  senorita,'  was  the  reply. 

"  'And  gone  ?' 

"'To  join  the  main  body,  maestro,  mia;  they  will  never  look  here.' 

"  I  understood  barely  enough  of  the  language  to  know  that  this  im- 
plied safety.  The  curtain  was  slowly  drawn  aside,  and  the  speakers 
departed.  For  hours  I  sought  in  vain  to  take  up  the  tangled  thread 
of  my  existence.  Geneva  was  clear  in  my  mind,  and  I  fancied  myself 
in  some  cave  in  the  hills  of  Switzerland.  I  thought,  and  thought,  and 

(72) 


DOLORES.  73 

thought  again,  '  Much  wondering  what  I  was,  whence  hither  brought, 
and  how.'  Beyond  my  school  days  I  could  not  get  the  clew.  Again 
I  slept,  and  awaking  memory  brought  back  my  journey  to  the  States, 
the  Texan  expedition,  and — all  at  once  I  was  again  at  the  rendezvous ; 
again  I  rushed  madly  on  the  chasm,  again  I  dared  the  awful  leap, 
and,  with  a  shriek,  relapsed  into  insensibility. 

"  I  was  dimly  conscious  of  two  persons  about  my  bed,  both  men ; 
but  men  of  a  garb  and  color  I  had  seen  only  in  dreams.  The  one 
who  seemed  to  have  most  authority  again  pressed  the  bitter  draught  to 
my  lips,  and  I  sank  into  a  long  refreshing  sleep.  When  I  awoke  it 
was  midday,  and  I  saw  that  I  was  in  a  room  half  cave,  half  cabin, 
such  as  the  Mexican  herdsmen  build  far  up  the  mountains.  On  the 
wall  were  pictures  of  the  Virgin  and  some  saints,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
a  crucifix,  while  a  few  adornments  of  some  elegance  were  scattered 
about.  It  was  evidently  the  abode  of  rude  herdsmen,  hastily  refitted 
by  a  woman.  All  this  I  saw  in  a  few  seconds  of  half-waking  con- 
sciousness. But  only  for  an  instant.  As  I  moved,  some  one  came 
forward  holding  a  cup,  and  at 
sight  of  her,  the  red  blood  rushed 
over  my  enfeebled  frame.  She 
spoke.  Away  flew  all  my  dreams 
of  Texan  independence,  away  my 
heroic  plans  for  the  Brotherhood 
of  Man,  away  my  cultivated 
hatred  of  all  the  Spanish  race; 
any  life  was  worthless  that  did 
not  include  her.  In  this  there  was 
no  cold  reasoning;  there  was  no 
thought  that  it  was  best,  or  why 

,  .,  ,11,      "SOMEONE   CAME    FORWARD  HOLDING   A  CUP." 

it  was  best;  it  came  as  the  hot 

winds  come  from  the  desert,  upon  the  green  oasis. 

" ( The  Virgin  be  praised,  he  speaks  and  lives ! ' 

"' But  where  am  I?' 

"'Safe.' 

" '  But  my  friends,  my  companions  in  arms  ? ' 

" '  They  are  gone  to  their  own  country ;  but  never  mind.  Rest  and 
sleep.' 

"I  need  not  recount  the  progress  of  our  attachment.  Her  home 
was  at  a  hacienda,  some  miles  down  the  valley — one  of  the  outposts. 
Her  parents  were  rich  only  in  flocks  and  herds ;  their  servants,  peons 
and  Pueblo  Indians.  As  the  custom  of  these  herders  is  to  move  higher 


74 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


up  the  mountains  with  the  advance  of  the  Season,  they  were  in  this 
hut  at  the  time  of  our  approach.  It  appeared  that  the  rebound  of  my 
horse  from  the  opposite  bank  had  hurled  me  back  into  the  bushes 
growing  out  from  the  side  of  the  gorge  some  twenty  feet  down ;  and 
thence  by  a  succession  of  falls  among  the  shrubby  growth,  I  had 
reached  the  bottom  sixty  feet  below,  fearfully  bruised  and  broken,  but 
not  mortally  hurt.  The  Mexicans  saw  no  way  of  descending  except 

by  making  a  long  circuit, 
and  seeing  my  horse 
crushed  to  jelly  at  the  bot- 
tom, they  concluded  I 
was  dead  under  him. 
Fortunately  I  was  found 
by  the  Pueblo  Gomez, 
and  brought  to  the  cabin. 
Had  a  Mexican  found 


me 


"  THE  MEXICANS   SAW  NO    WAY  OF    DESCENDING." 


"  Had  word  gone  to  the 
hacienda,  the  command 
would  have  been  prompt : 
'  Give  him  up ! "  But  she  saw  me  first,  and  womanly  pity  sub- 
ordinated all  other  thoughts  to  that  of  saving  me.  In  secret  the 
medicine  man  of  the  nearest  pueblo  was  brought  to  dress  my  wounds 
and  bandage  my  broken  limbs,  and  at  the  end  of  ten  days  I  slowly 
struggled  back  to  life  and  consciousness.  Still  the  Mexican  author- 
ities were  ignorant  of  my  existence.  Should  they  learn  it,  what  would 
be  my  fate?  Perhaps  to  be  honorably  treated  as  a  prisoner  of  Avar, 
perhaps  to  be  murdered  at  sight.  It  would  depend  entirely  on  the 
first  officer  who  took  charge  of  me.  So  many  are  the  castes  among 
these  people,  and  so  great  the  difference  between  different  clans,  that 
with  one  the  prisoner  is  treated  as  a  guest,  while  by  another  he  is 
butchered  like  a  wild  beast.  But  I  was  for  the  present  safe,  and  in 
time  took  up  the  clew  of  my  past  life,  and  followed  it  down  to  the  last 
moment  of  consciousness — slowly,  painfully,  as  the  wounded  hunter 
drags  his  bleeding  limbs  towards  home,  with  many  halts  and  stumblings. 
The  old  life  was  gone ;  the  new  life  had  grown  up  with  Dolores,  for 
such,  she  told  me,  was  her  name.  I  seemed  to  have  nothing  I  did  not 
owe  to  her,  and  for  the  present  it  was  enough  to  live  and  love.  She 
taught  me  her  language  more  perfectly,  though  we  scarcely  needed  it ; 
and  the  days  of  convalescence  passed  as  a  brief  dream. 

"At  length  I  was  able  to  leave  the  cabin,  and,  leaning  upon  the  arm 


DOLORES.  75 

of  Dolores,  walked  to  a  projecting  rock,  which  commanded  a  view  of 
the  Mora  pass.  Then  my  past  life  seemed  renewed,  as  familiar 
thoughts  were  excited  by  the  scenery.  But  Dolores  was  now  my 
arbiter.  Of  her  people  I  knew  little;  for  her  religion  I  cared  nothing. 
It  was  hers,  therefore  it  could  not  be  bad.  Doubtless  it  was  true  as 
any  other.  I  smiled  at  the  Protestant  prejudices  of  my  youth;  I  gazed 
into  the  radiant  eyes  of  Dolores,  and  thought  the  old  world  mad  that 
all  its  religious  differences  had  not  yielded  to  the  potent  solvent  of  love. 
Our  love  came  unbidden.  We  thought  not  of  the  morrow;  we  made 
no  declarations ;  we  simply  understood  each  other.  But  as  we  sat  upon 
the  rocky  point,  sometimes  exchanging  a  word,  but  oftener  in  silent 
bliss,  we  saw  a  moving  cloud  of  dust  rise  from  the  pass  far  below, 
and  had  just  time  to  gain  a  point  secluded  from  observation  when  a 
cavalcade  came  into  full  view.  Imagine  my  horror  when  I  saw  my 
old  companions,  and  with  them  fifty  more  Americans,  toiling  wearily 
through  the  dust  and  heat,  bound  elbow  to  elbow,  and  urged  on  by  the 
mounted  Mexicans,  who  laughed  and  jeered  at  the  captives.  I  was 
mad  with  rage,  but  what  could  one  do  against  so  many?  With  tearful 
eyes  I  watched  them  out  of  sight  beyond  the  rock  El  Sentinel,  then 
turned  with  a  fierce  determination  to  hasten  northward  and  bring 
relief.  Dolores  met  me  with  a  smile,  tinged  with  a  shade  of  sadness. 
It  was  enough.  I  easily  found  excuse  for  inaction.  Again  was  the  repub- 
lic forgotten,  again  the  eternal  rights  of  man  seemed  of  minor  impor- 
tance. I  was  happy  here.  What  need  of  dwelling  on  the  past  ?  Why 
take  such  heavy  thoughts  for  the  future  ?  Love  is  a  radically  selfish 
passion.  Waking,  I  counted  the  moments  till  she  should  return ;  sleep- 
ing, her  image  glided  through  my  dreams.  By  day  she  smiled  upon 
me  in  the  landscape ;  by  night  she  beamed  upon  me  from  the  starry 
skies. 

"  The  summer  was  now  far  advanced ;  hot  days  were  followed  by  dew- 
less  nights,  and  the  grass  was  dried  upon  the  ground.  A  new  danger 
confronted  us.  Dolores  only  made  her  daily  visit  from  the  hacienda 
to  the  cabin  at  constant  risk  of  attracting  attention  to  my  hiding-place; 
she  now  announced  with  sobs  that  the  season  had  come  when  the 
Pueblos  must  remove  the  herds.  Her  father  would  return  from  the 
capital;  if  I  remained  at  the  cabin,  it  must  be  at  daily  and  hourly 
risk.  He?  father  was  a  caballerOj  she  said,  brave  and  generous ;  but 
he  was  above  all  a  Mexican.  Duty  and  inclination  alike  would  lead 
him  to  surrender  me.  His  servants  were  doubtful.  The  few  Pueblos 
she  could  trust ;  the  peons  never. 

"  It  was  a  rude  awakening.     All  that  calm  afternoon  we  discussed 


76  WESTERN  WILDS. 

our  situation,  at  one  moment  mingling  our  tears,  the  next  elate  with 
firm  determination.  A  score  of  plans  I  proposed  were  in  turn  re- 
jected. To  regain  American  territory  was  simply  impossible.  The 
irregular  war  with  the  Texans  continued,  and  the  country  between  us 
and  the  Arkansas  was  swarming  with  scouts.  Every  point  was 
guarded.  Starvation  was  possible,  capture  certain,  death  probable. 
My  late  companions  were  now  languishing  in  Mexican  dungeons; 
those  who  lived  to  return  home  would  probably  do  so  with  broken 
health.  Death  would  certainly  overtake  many  of  them  in  prison. 
From  such  a  fate  she  prayed  the  Virgin  to  deliver  me.  Hour  after 
hour  passed ;  I  would  do  or  dare  aught  for  her ;  but  to  fly  now  was 
to  lose  her  forever.  At  last  she  spoke  : 

" '  Gomez  is  our  hope.  He  is  not  a  peon,  but  a  free  Pueblo.  Many 
years  absent  from  his  town,  he  is  bound  to  no  cacique.  Far  to  the 
west  are  other  Pueblos  who  owe  no  duty  to  the  Mexican  Republic ; 
but  between  them  and  ours  there  is  a  friendship.  Once  they  had  a 
common  ruler,  and  long  kept  the  sacred  fires  burning  for  him.  Gomez 
will  guide  you  to  that  people.  In  any  of  those  pueblos  you  are 
safe.  Stay  till  there  is  peace  with  the  Tejanos;  then  return,  and 
.'  Her  light  smile  changed  to  a  deep  blush. 

"'  May  the  Virgin  bless  and  protect  you !  Every  night  I  shall  look 
upon  the  star  that  rises  earliest  above  the  peak  where  I  first  saw  your 
face.  In  one  year  I  feel  that  you  will  return— one  year.  Oh, 
Santa  Maria,  is  it  eternity?' 

"'No,  to  the  young  and  ardent  it  is  long;  but  it  will  pass  at 
last/ 

"'Now,  go  to  rest;  and  as  soon  as  Gomez  can  supply  his  place 
among  the  vacqueros,  enter  upon  the  journey.  To  him  can  I 
intrust  my  chief  treasure.' 

"Three  nights  after,  as  I  lay  asleep,  Gomez  touched  me,  and  said 
in  Spanish:  'The  senorita  waits;  we  start  in  an  hour.'  Down  the 
sharp  caflon,  and  out  upon  the  western  plain  we  found  the  animals 
tied  ready  for  us,  and  in  a  little  grove  of  algodones  beyond  the 
hacienda  I  met  Dolores.  Need  I  recount  our  parting.  It  was  a 
short,  delicious  agony.  I  held  her  to  my  heart  as  we  exchanged 
vows  of  eternal  constancy;  then,  pressing  kiss  after  kiss  upon  her 
lips,  I  hurried  away — for  I  knew  not  what — in  my  ear  her  parting 
words,  '  May  all  the  saints  watch  over  my  love.' 

"  Hastily  crossing  the  narrow  valley  and  ascending  the  slope  west 
of  it,  at  daylight  we  reached  the  first  pueblo,  the  nominal  home 
of  Gomez,  who  maintained  semi-allegiance  to  its  cacique  and  fiscal; 


DOLORES.  77 

and  in  its  shaded  recesses  we  remained  for  the  day.  The  chief  men 
conversed  readily  in  Spanish ;  but,  among  themselves,  they  spoke  a 
language  of  which  I  could  not  catch  a  syllable.  Nor  is  it  known  to 
the  Mexicans,  even  to  the  interpreters  who  speak  the  tongues  of  all 
the  wild  tribes.  They  conduct  all  their  trades  in  Spanish,  and  ex- 
clude Mexicans  as  much  as  possible  from  their  towns.  There  is 
evidence  that  these  people  were  once  far  more  numerous  than  now, 
as  the  country  was  far  more  fertile.  Conquered  by  the  Spaniards 
nearly  three  centuries  since,  they  revolted  and  with  desperate  bravery 
expelled  or  exterminated  their  conquerors.  But,  in  1690,  a  new  and 
more  powerful  Spanish  army  reconquered  the  province ;  the  Quiros, 
Tagnos,  and  kindred  tribes  submitted  sullenly  to  the  Spanish  yoke, 
but  the  more  warlike  retreated  to  the  defensible  valleys  and  walled 
basins  of  the  Sierra  Madre  Range,  and  maintained  a  fierce  inde- 
pendence. It  was  to  those  we  were  bound.  Those  near  the  Rio 
Grande,  compelled  to  give  up  their  Montezumas  religion  and  become 
nominal  Catholics,  still  held  to  many  features  of  their  ancient  faith, 
and  long  cherished  plans  of  revolution  and  vengeance.  But  time, 
which  reconciles  us  to  all  things,  had  now  led  them  to  acquiesce  in 
the  political  control  of  the  Spanish  race,  though  they  tenaciously 
resisted  all  social  intercourse,  and  maintained  their  own  line  of 
priesthood  and  a  distinct  language. 

"  By  the  advice  of  Gomez,  I  here  stained  my  face,  hands,  and  arms 
with  a  pigment,  which  gave  them  color  like  that  of  the  Pueblos; 
and  the  next  night  we  crossed  the  Rio  Grande,  as  it  was  well  for  us 
to  avoid  observation  till  we  left  that  neighborhood.  After  another 
halt  at  Jemez,  near  the  wonderful  Hot  Springs,  we  hastened  on  to 
Dead  Man's  Canon  and  crossed  into  the  land  of  the  Navajoes.  These 
Indians  hung  upon  the  slopes  of  the  Sierra  Madre,  a  living  threat 
to  the  Mexican  settlements.  They  waged  a  war,  never  intermitted 
for  two  hundred  years  after  their  fierce  ancestors  were  driven  from 
the  fertile  valleys  and  forced  to  find  subsistence  and  refuge  amid  the 
secluded  canons  and  on  the  storm-swept  mesas  of  the  mountains.  In- 
genious, brave,  and  haughty,  they  called  the  Mexicans  '  their  herders/ 
and  robbing  without  quite  ruining  the  dwellers  in  the  valley,  they 
took  tribute  alternately  from  different  settlements,  leaving  time  be- 
tween raids  for  the  sufferers  to  renew  their  stock  and  gather  wealth 
for  future  forays.  But  now  a  precarious  peace  existed,  and  each 
Mexican  hamlet  secured  protection  by  purchasing  the  friendship  of 
some  Navajo  chieftain. 

"For  the  first  two  days  of  travel,  I  hung  upon  the  neck  of  my 


78  WESTERN  WILDS. 

little  burro,  weak  in  body  and  sad  at  recent  parting ;  but  soon 
fresh  air  and  exercise,  with  change  of  scene,  brought  new  life, 
and  I  felt  a  strange  interest  in  the  people  we  encountered.  We 
passed  hot  deserts,  glistening  with  sand  and  alkali ;  broad  plateaus 
of  bare  sandstone,  and  occasionally  green  dells  or  wooded  coves, 
where  the  natural  beauty,  by  contrast  with  surrounding  barrenness, 
awakened  emotions  of  keen  delight.  Sometimes  we  jogged  on  for 
hours  over  a  bare  flat,  then  from  the  rocky  rim  walling  an  ancient 
basin  descended  to  the  beds  of  lakes  long  since  dry,  to  find  in  the 
center  and  lowest  depressions  rich  natural  meadows  or  sullen  pools, 
bordered  by  a  few  sickly  cotton  woods.  We  traversed  wild  gorges, 
where  from  every  side  red  precipices  frowned  upon  yellow  sands; 
we  crossed  sandy  wastes  where  glittered  quartz-crystals,  garnets, 
and  flakes  of  mica,  and  saw  upon  the  scarred  peaks  the  awful  evi- 
dences of  a  thousand  cosmic  convulsions.  We  passed  amid  bands 
of  savage  men,  who  grew  gentle  at  our  approach,  after  a  few  words 
or  signs  from  Gomez;  and  traveled  for  days  along  a  valley  strewn 
with  the  ruins  of  abandoned  towns.  Again  we  turned  to  the  hills, 
crossed  the  lowest  divide  of  the  Sierra  Madre,  and  traveled  on 
over  sterile  flats  and  treeless,  grassless  mesas.  It  seemed  a  land 
accursed  of  God  and  forgotten  of  civilized  men,  where  only  hunt- 
ers and  herdsmen  could  wring  a  scant  subsistence  from  unwilling 
nature;  a  land  which  even  the  all-grasping  Spaniard  did  not  covet, 
but  left  as  a  refuge  for  those  who  could  not  give  him  gold  for  blood, 
and  would  not  yield  the  sweat  of  unpaid  toil  for  his  religion. 

"  Beyond  the  last  range  of  the  Sierra  Madre  we  descended  to  the 
cafion  of  the  Colorado  Chiquito,  rose  again  to  the  Mesa  Calabasa, 
and  again  cautiously  threaded  a  defile  down  to  an  oval  basin  some 
thirty  miles  in  width,  dotted  with  little  oases  rich  in  native  grasses. 
In  the  center  of  this  vale  Gomez  pointed  out  the  goal  of  our  hopes. 
A  sharp  mesa  rose  abruptly  from  the  plain,  and  on  its  summit  were 
the  Moqui  towns.  A  few  friendly  JSTavajoes  had  accompanied  us; 
for  there  was  a  temporary  peace  between  them  and  their  fierce 
neighbors,  the  Apaches.  Rushing  down  the  rocky  paths  with  wild 
cries,  the  Moquis  came  to  the  foot  of  the  mesa  in  disorder  and 
apparent  anger  at  our  approach ;  but  a  few  words  from  Gomez  reas- 
sured them,  and  I  was  conducted  up  the  winding  way  by  which 
alone  the  place  is  accessible,  and  led  into  the  presence  of  their 
chief.  He  received  me  with  civil  dignity,  assigned  me  a  hoiise, 
for  many  were  vacant,  and  in  a  few  days  I  was  as  much  at  home 
with  these  strange  people  as  if  I  had  been  there  for  years.  The 


DOLORES.  79 

Capitan,  as  their  chief  man  was  called,  sought  to  cheer  the  hours, 
as  far  as  his  simple  pleasures  and  uneventful  life  could  interest  me, 
and  as  I  grew  to  understand  the  people,  they  were  a  strange  study 
to  me.  The  government,  if  government  it  might  be  called,  was  a 
pure  paternalism ;  but  repression  was  unnecessary,  because  crime  could 
scarcely  be  said  to  exist. 

"At  last,  said  I,  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  is  found.  Here. is  no 
scheming  of  man  to  supplant  his  fellow ;  here  all  are  equal,  and 
obedience  to  natural  law,  with  mutual  toleration,  takes  the  place  of 
courts  and  statutes.  But  I  soon  saw  that  in  parting  with  most  of 
the  faults  of  a  progressive  race,  they  had  parted  with  many  of  its 
virtues  and  all  of  its  advantages.  There  was  no  envy,  for  there  was 
110  emulation ;  the  weak  were  not  trodden  down  by  the  strong  in  a 
struggle  for  place,  for  there  was  no  struggle.  There  was  no  caste, 
for  there  was  neither  rank  nor  wealth ;  a  dead  level  of  social  medi- 
ocrity took  the  place  of  our  many  distinctions  in  birth  or  condition. 
They  had  not  the  petty  vices  of  a  trading  people,  as  they  had  little  in- 
tercourse with  the  rest  of  mankind ;  nor  the  faults  of  a  manufacturing 
town,  for  every  family  was  its  own  manufacturer.  Political  strife 
never  disturbed  them,  for  there  was  no  choice  as  to  the  form  of  gov- 
ernment, and  no  energy  to  change  the  ruler.  The  Capitan  did  not 
rob  his  people,  for  they  had  nothing  worth  his  taking;  the  people 
did  not  envy  their  king,  for  he  was  poor  as  themselves.  Luxury 
and  its  attendant  vices  they  knew  not — their  land  sufficed  but  for  a 
bare  existence ;  and  unchastity  was  so  rare  as  to  be  looked  upon  as 
a  monstrous  phenomenon.  But  their  chastity  resulted  from  a  lack 
uf  aggressive  energy,  and  a  sexual  coldness  with  which  kind  nature 
ever  blesses  an  illy  nourished  and  decaying  race.  No  military  am- 
bition disturbed  the  placid  current  of  their  lives ;  they  scarcely  knew 
how  to  defend  themselves  against  their  savage  neighbors,  and  retir- 
ing to  these  rock-defended  fastnesses,  had  left  the  open  country  to 
their  foes. 

"Then  I  saw  that  energy  is  evolved  only  in  conflict;  that  a  vigor- 
ous combat  with  evil  develops  the  individual,  and  that  a  state  from 
which  ambition  should  be  banished  to  leave  the  citizen  free  from 
conflict,  would  be  a  state  in  which  moral  vigor  would  in  turn  decay, 
and  social  stagnation,  as  a  living  tomb,  swallow  up  the  proudest  prod- 
ucts of  the  march  of  mind.  With  these  people  one  day  passed  as 
another.  Whether  they  had  a  belief  in  immortality  I  could  never 
learn ;  but  they  might  well  ignore  it,  since  even  in  this  world  they 
were  dead  already.  Beyond  the  narrow  horizon  of  their  hills,  they 


80  WESTERN  WILDS. 

saw  nothing;  this  basin  was  to  them  the  world.  Ambition  had  no 
place  in  their  dull  emotions,  and  though  central  to  a  dozen  warring 
tribes,  they  were  simple,  civil  and  unwarlike. 

"One  year  I  abode  with  these  people.  It  was  rest;  but  for  a  life- 
time— ah,  that  would  be  consignment  to  a  living  tomb !  But  Gomez 
returned,  and  with  a  message  from  Dolores.  There  was  peace  at  last ; 
the  captive  Tejanos  had  been  released,  and  I  might  safely  return. 
The  journey  was  a  long  reverie  of  delightful  anticipation.  The  meet- 
ing I  leave  you  to  imagine.  But  all  was  not  well;  Colonel  Warfield 
and  his  brave  companions  had  been  released,  and  many  Americans 
were  coming  into  Santa  Fe;  but  the  Mexican  authorities  felt  that 
peace  was  temporary,  and  armed  parties  still  hovered  along  the  front- 
ier. We  scarcely  seemed  nearer  the  fruition  of  our  hopes,  and 
months  of  weary  waiting  were  yet  before  us.  Her  father — but  I  need 
not  tell  you  of  Castilian  pride.  He  was  of  the  genie  fina  of  New 
Mexico,  and,  boasting  of  his  saugre  azul,  an  alliance  with  an  unknown 
foreigner  would  have  seemed  to  him  worse  than  her  death.  I  urged 
immediate  flight;  that  we  would  seek  the  States,  and  there  remain  till 
permanent  peace  should  allow  us  to  return  and  settle  in  Mexico,  as  I 
hoped — after  the  manner  of  sanguine  youth — we  might  soon  do  with  the 
wealth  that  I  should  earn.  I  abode  at  the  adjacent  pueblo,  and  as 
often  as  possible  saw  and  conferred  with  Dolores,  never  failing  to 
urge  immediate  flight.  I  need  not  recount  the  progress  I  made,  if 
you  know  aught  of  the  female  heart.  She  yielded,  and  in  the  midst 
of  all  my  distractions  and  uncertainties,  I  thought  myself  the  happiest 
of  men.  We  were  to  set  out  the  first  opportunity.  The  distance  was 
great,  and  no  guide  to  be  had.  In  vain  I  sought  for  one  in  the 
pueblo;  the  honest  fellows  shook  their  heads.  In  their  own  country, 
among  their  own  people,  they  were  at  my  service,  but  not  among  los 
Americanos,  los  diabolos  Gringos!  We  could  not  retreat  from  our 
project.  Before  a  Pueblo  priest  we  plighted  our  faith,  and  thus  united 
in  *  life  and  death,  set  out  upon  our  northward  route.  One  Pueblo 
accompanied  us  the  first  night  and  till  noon  the  next  day;  then  point- 
ing out  our  sa/est  route — along  the  higher  part  of  the  plateau  to  avoid 
Mexican  scouts — bade  us  farewell,  and  we  were  alone  upon  the  tierra 
templada. 

"The  route  led  to  a  water-hole,  where  we  paused  exhausted,  and 
remained  till  midnight.  Thence  we  rose  to  a  dim  trail  higher  up  the 
rocky  slope,  and  toiled  on  till  late  next  afternoon,  when  fatigue  and 
fear  for  our  animals  again  compelled  us  to  stop.  A  long  rest,  and 
then  on  to  the  next  pool,  which  we  reached  late  at  night,  and  soon 


,  DOLORES.  81 

sank  into  a  profound  sleep.  When  we  awoke  late  next  morning,  the 
scene  had  changed.  A  dense  mist,  rare  at  that  season,  hung  upon  the 
mountains,  and  heavy  clouds  drifted  eastward  over  the  plain.  Never- 
theless, I  marked  what  I  thought  the  right  course,  and  we  traveled 
on.  Before  noon  we  were  bewildered  among  the  projecting  ridges, 
where  the  trail  was  obscured  upon  the  rocky  flats,  and  ere  long 
were  completely  lost. 

"  Should  we  descend  to  the  lower  plain  for  a  shorter  route,  or  turn 
toward  the  mountains  to  be  sure  of  grass  and  water?  I  determined 
to  continue  a  due  north  course  as  far  as  possible,  trusting  either  to 
come  again  upon  the  trail,  or  find  water  in  some  of  the  limestone 
'  pockets/  which  occur  here  and  there  even  in  the  red  sand  hills.  By 
noon  the  water  in  the  canteens  I  had  provided  was  nauseating,  having 
been  almost  stagnant  when  taken  from  the  pool ;  before  the  next 
morning  it  was  all  gone,  while  our  animals  gave  unmistakable  signs 
of  approaching  exhaustion.  Still  we  pressed  on.  It  was  now  mid 
August,  and  the  hot,  dry  season  was  at  its  worst.  The  bunch-grass 
was  dried  to  a  coppery  hue,  and  though  it  nourished  our  animals,  they 
must  have  water  also.  The  stinging  plants  and  thorny  cactus  con- 
stantly impeded  our  way,  and  we  soon  came  to  regard  the  broad  flats 
of  bare  rock  as  a  glad  relief.  But  water,  water  we  must  have.  1 
was  then  too  ignorant  of  wood-craft  to  know  that  in  the  Rockv 
Mountains  one  hunts  up-hill  for  water  instead  of  down  upon  H>?. 
plain ;  and  felt  keenly  my  need  of  that  sixth  sense  wherewith  thfc 
Indian  and  plainsman  can  discern  the  locality  of  a  brook  or  pool  by 
the  appearance  of  surrounding  hills  or  vegetation. 

"Night  drew  on.  There  was  a 
dead  calm  and  oppressive  air.  The 
animals  at  length  refused  to  move 
a  step  further,  and  I  had  barely  time 
to  spring  from  my  saddle  and  receive 
her,  when  Dolores  fainted  in  my 
arms.  For  a  moment  my  agony  was 
terrible — the  agony  at  once  of  fear 
and  indecision.  But  in  a  moment  " DOLORES  FAINTED  ls  MY  ABMS'" 
fierce  energy  returned;  I  raised  her,  recalled  her  to  consciousness,  and 
now  leading,  now  carrying  her,  toiled  up  and  over  the  rocks  to  the 
mouth  of  a  gorge  that  opened  upon  the  side  of  a  precipice  a  thousand 
feet  above.  Why,  I  scarcely  knew,  but  had  a  vague  hope  of  protection 
and  rest  in  the  defile.  Night  came  on  suddenly,  and  its  coolness  greatly 
revived  us.  We  had  as  yet  suffered  little  with  actual  thirst,  and  when 


82  WESTERN  WILDS. 

our  first  trouble  was  passed,  sank  to  sleep  upon  a  sand-heap  at  the 
base  of  an  immense  rock.  Soon  after  midnight  we  awoke  stiff  with 
cold,  and  now  beginning  to  feel  the  sharper  promptings  of  thirst,  I 
proposed  to  search  for  water  down  the  cafion,  but  on  turning  we  saw 
our  animals,  like  us  revived  by  the  night  air,  slowly  making  their  way 
up  the  dry  arroyo,  as  if  they  would  seek  relief  near  its  head.  Some- 
thing in  this  manifestation  of  instinct  decided  me.  The  arroyo  showed 
plainly  that  at  some  seasons  it  contained  a  large  stream ;  might  there 
not  remain  a  little  near  its  source? 

"  For  hours  we  toiled  on  up  the  dry  channel,  soon  leaving  the  animals 
far  behind ;  now  stumbling  over  the  immense  stones  which  choked  the 
dry  bed,  and  now  searching  every  clump  of  grass  that  showed  the 
faintest  tinge  of  green.  The  sun  rose  red  and  fiery,  the  air  was  filled 
with  light  haze,  and  another  sultry  day  began.  But  with  every 
hour's  advance  new  signs  encouraged  us :  there  were  clumps  of 
dwarfish  pines,  and  occasionally  a  shrub  of  other  timber ;  the  grass 
in  places  had  an  unmistakably  green  tinge,  and  occasional  tracks 
showed  that  various  small  animals  habitually  made  this  passage.  But 
every  moment  our  thirst  increased.  I  glanced  at  Dolores;  her  eyes 
gleamed  with  that  unwholesome  fire  which  is  the  precursor  of  delirium. 
I  felt  my  own  head  grow  giddy ;  my  eyes  were  so  dry  it  seemed  I 
could  feel  the  balls  grate  as  they  turned  in  their  sockets;  my  tongue 
was  swollen,  my  lips  cracked,  and  I  spoke  with  difficulty.  Hastily 
seeking  the  shade  of  an  immense  rock,  I  broke  some  splinters  from  a 
mountain  pine ;  these,  rolled  about  in  the  mouth,  soon  created  a  moist- 
ure, which  sensibly  relieved  our  sufferings,  and  again  we  toiled  on. 

"  It  was  now  noon.  The  hot  sun  glared  upon  the  white  sand  and  red 
rocks,  and  our  sufferings  rapidly  increased.  Almost  exhausted,  I  hap- 
pened to  turn  my  gaze  down  the  cafion,  and  saw  our  animals  far  below/ 
still  feebly  struggling  up  the  ascent.  The  sight  gave  me  renewed  hope, 
and,  with  fierce  energy,  I  rushed  from  side  to  side  of  the  gorge,  search- 
ing every  spot  that  bore  signs  of  the  presence  of  moisture  ;  but  in  vain. 
An  hour  longer  we  toiled  on,  then  Dolores  suddenly  reeled,  and  sank, 
apparently  lifeless,  in  my  arms.  With  loud  cries,  I  bore  her  hastily  to 
the  shade  of  a  projecting  rock;  I  chafed  her  hands,  and  implored  her 
to  look  up  and  live.  She  revived,  only  to  relapse  into  a  half-dead 
condition,  scarcely  sensible  of  my  presence,  but  babbling  in  Spanish 
of  green  fields  and  the  cool  brooks  about  her  home.  I  pressed  her  to 
my  heart,  and  prayed  that  death  might  come  at  once  and  end  our  in- 
tolerable sufferings.  An  hour  passed  thus,  then  suddenly  we  seemed 
to  revive  again — Dolores  with  alternate  sobs  and  hysterical  laughter, 


DOLORES.  83 

and  I  with  renewed  determination  to  push  on.  Soon  we  sank  into 
half-unconsciousness,  and  again  revived  as  suddenly,  but  with  all  the 
pangs  of  thirst  and  fatigue  greater  than  before.  Slowly  this  anguish 
receded,  and  we  sank  into  a  condition  of  almost  complete  exemption 
from  suffering,  to  again  revive  as  suddenly  to  fiercer  pangs. 

"  But  this  time  my  vision  seemed  strangely  cleared.  The  agony 
yielded  to  a  dull  pain,  that  left  me  power  to  think.  I  saw  all  the 
beauties  of  the  landscape  in  a  new  light,  and  gazed  on  them  with  act- 
ual interest,  while  I  pitied  and  blamed  myself  for  such  a  feeling.  I 
saw  a  mountain  bluebird  flit  rapidly  over  the  gorge,  and  wondered 
where  he  was  flying  and  what  for;  then  laughed  loud  and  long  at  my- 
self for  such  untimely  curiosity.  I  noticed  a  hillock  of  the  desert  ants 
near  me,  from  which  the  red  nation  was  pouring  by  hundreds,  and  a 
sand-toad  near  them  ;  then  I  remembered  that  these  creatures  avoid 
damp  spots,  where  water  is  liable  to  percolate,  and  again  the  wild 
gorge  rang  with  my  fierce  laughter  at  their  strange  habits.  I  saw  a 
lean  coyote  steal  across  the  cafion  below  us,  and  wondered  what  he  was 
doing  so  far  up  in  the  hills,  and  why  he  had  not  remained  on  the 
plains,  as  usual,  and  whether  he  was  lost  and  hunting  for  water;  then 
the  absurdity  of  this  conceit  struck  me,  and  I  made  what  I  thought  a 
very  witty  jest  at  his  leanness,  and  laughed  at  my  own  wit  till  the 
cafion  rang  again.  Suddenly  I  came  to  myself,  and  stared  around  me ; 
then  my  gaze  fell  on  Dolores,  lying  full  length  upon  the  sand,  and 
breathing  heavily,  and  all  my  fierce  energy  returned.  I  raised  her 
with  unnatural  strength,  fairly  bounded  up  the  cafion  several  rods,  and 
laid  her  at  the  foot  of  another  rock.  Again  and  again  I  repeated  this, 
one  moment  kissing  her  lips  and  vowing  to  save  her,  the  next  laughing 
at  my  temporary  fits  of  strength.  At  last  I  laid  her  in  a  cool  depres- 
sion at  the  foot  of  a  cliff,  which  seemed  to  have  been  split  by  some 
convulsion,  and,  for  a  space,  relapsed  into  insensibility. 

"  When  I  revived,  the  cool  night  had  come  again,  and  Dolores  was 
sitting  by  me,  clasping  my  hand.  Such  was  the  reviving  effect  of  the 
night  air,  now  sweeping  down  the  cafion  with  a  strong  breeze,  that  we 
were  greatly  refreshed,  and,  after  a  sad,  sweet  interchange  of  thought, 
sank  into  a  troubled  sleep.  Again  we  waked  suddenly,  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  and  again  the  pangs  of  thirst  were  upon  us  in  all  their 
fury.  Nature  has  still  some  mercy,  even  at  her  worst,  and  though  a 
man  die  in  torture,  for  want  of  food  or  drink,  she  secures  him  intervals 
of  perfect  rest  from  pain.  But  now  our  sufferings  were  at  their  worst. 
Mere  abstinence  from  water  for  two  days  would  not  have  produced 
such  effects,  but  for  our  continued  exertions.  The  cold  night  air  pre- 


84  WESTERN  WILDS. 

vented  delirium.  I  put  out  ray  hand  to  assure  Dolores  of  my  presence, 
when — was  it  possible  ?  Did  I  feel  an  actual  moisture  at  the  base  of 
the  cliff,  or  was  it  only  the  cold,  dry  sand  ?  Fiercely  I  scratched  away 
the  first  few  inches  of  the  loose  surface — eagerly  I  thrust  my  fingers  into 
the  packed  dirt  and  gravel,  and  tore  my  nails  digging  beside  the  rock. 
Yes,  it  was  unmistakable;  there  was  moisture  there,  and  somewhere 
above  it  there  was  water ! 

"New  life  animated  me.  I  followed  the  line  of  moisture  along  the 
base  of  the  rock ;  it  suddenly  ceased,  and  my  heart  stood  still.  An  in- 
stant more,  and  I  perceived  that  I  had  passed  the  immense  fissure  which 
split  the  cliff;  in  it  I  again  found  the  moist  trace.  I  followed  it  a  few 
rods,  and  perceived  that  the  formation  had  changed  to  limestone.  Joy 
overcame  me.  I  screamed  aloud,  and  burst  into  tears.  Every  yard 
that  I  advanced  up  the  fissure  the  earth  grew  more  moist.  Presently 
I  could  squeeze  a  few  dirty  drops  from  a  handful  into  my  mouth. 
Great  Jupiter!  Was  Olympian  nectar  ever  so  sweet?  A  few  rods 
more  and  there  was  dank  green  grass,  its  matted  roots  sodden  with  mud 
and  water.  Eagerly  I  sucked  the  divine  fluid,  then  tore  up  a  few 
handfuls  and  hastened  with  it  to  Dolores.  Squeezing  the  scant  drops 
into  her  mouth,  and  spreading  the  grass  roots  upon  her  brow,  I  soon 
had  the  exquisite  joy  of  seeing  her  raise  her  head  and  smile.  I  took 
her  in  my  arms  and  bore  her  to  the  damp  grass-plat ;  then,  foot  by  foot, 
on  our  knees,  we  searched  the  narrow  ravine.  Soon  we  came  to  where 
a  few  tiny  drops  trickled  over  a  mossy  stone.  With  our  lips  pressed  to 
the  rock,  AVC  drew  new  life  from  it.  For  an  hour  we  alternately  sucked 
at  this  source,  and.  cheered  each  other — she  calling  upon  the  Virgin,  and 
blessing  all  the  saints  by  turns,  I  rejoicing  at  the  happy  operations  of 
nature  which  gave  us  water  in  this  strange  place. 

"  Our  worst  tortures  past,  fatigue  again  conquered  us.  We  sank  into 
a  sound  sleep,  and  did  not  wake  till  the  morning  light  fell  upon  our 
faces.  I  then  saw  that  the  line  of  green  grass  continued  up  the  nar- 
row gorge,  and,  following  it  for  two  hours,  we  came  upon  a  pool  of 
cold,  clear  water.  Did  you  ever,  after  hours  of  toil  across  the  desert, 
come  upon  one  of  those  lime-rock  springs,  which  alone  make  life  possi- 
ble in  the  far  South-west?  If  so,  you  know  their  wonderful  beauty; 
you  can  imagine  our  joy.  Around  were  the  yellow  and  striped  mount- 
ains, seamed  and  scarred  as  if  by  a  million  years  of  storm  and  light- 
ning; below,  the  cliff-walled  caflon,  now  filled  with  the  hot  and  stag- 
nant air  of  mid-day,  and  beyond  it  the  dry  sands  and  treeless  desert. 
Here  was  a  cool  spring,  central  to  a  little  oasis,  where  the  bright  fluid 
bubbled  forth  from  the  earth,  and  dripped  o'er  the  rocks  in  tiny,  cool 


DOLORES. 


85 


rivulets — where  rank,  green  grass  hung  over  the  brim  of  the  pool,  and 
strange,  bright  flowers  spoke  of  life,  and  love,  and  hope. 

"A  day's  rest  was  imperative,  and  as  soon  as  possible  I  filled  my  can- 
teens and  hastened  back  to  find  our  horses.  They  had  toiled  on  till 
morning;  then  one  had  fallen  exhausted,  while  the  other  had  halted 
in  the  shadow  of  a  cliff,  barely  able  to  stand.  A  canteen  full  of  water, 
which  he  drank  from  my  Mexican  sombrero,  greatly  revived  him,  but 
the  other  was  past  hope.  I  succeeded  in  getting  the  one  to  the  mouth 
of  the  gorge,  and  after  a  dozen  trips  for  water,  he  was  so  far  restored 
as  to  graze  upon  the  bunch-grass.  Next  morning  we  set  out  again, 
now  with  but  one  horse,  and  late  the  next  night,  having  found  the 
trail,  reached  the  water-hole,  which  was  to  have  been  our  stopping 
place  the  day  we  were  lost.  There  we  again  rested  a  day,  which  so 
far  restored  the  animal  that  he  was  able  to  carry  Dolores  and  our 
little  stock  of  provisions,  as  fast  as  I  could  walk  beside  him.  Again  we 
journeyed  on,  turning  aside  at  night  into  a  cailon,  and  keeping  near  the 
base  of  the  mountains  by  day.  Once  past  the  divide  of  the  tierra  tem- 
plada  and  upon  the  slopes  leading  down  to  the  Arkansas,  water-holes 
could  be  found  three  or  four  times  every  day.  Our  progress  was  now 
encouragingly  rapid,  and  in  due  time  we  turned  the  last  point  on  the 
mountain  trail,  and  with  a  glad  shout  hailed  the  yellow  Arkansas. 
Another  day,  and  we 
should  be  on  American 
soil ;  the  land  would  be 
better  watered,  my  gun 
would  supply  us  with 
game,  and  we  might  trav- 
el more  leisurely. 

"We  turned  eastward 
and  down  to  the  plain, 
to  reach  the  main  cross- 
ing on  the  Santa  Fe  trail,  and  late  the  next  day,  while  our  hearts  beat 
high  with  satisfaction,  descended  to  the  sandy  border  of  the  Ar- 
kansas. A  shout  was  borne  to  our  ears  from  the  heights  behind,  and 
turning,  we  saw  a  party  of  mounted  Mexicans  rapidly  nearing  us. 
For  an  instant  our  hearts  stood  still  with  fear;  the  next  I  bounded 
on  the  horse  in  front  of  Dolores,  and  urged  him  fiercely  forward. 
I  remembered  with  agony  that  I  had  no  traders'  permit  from  the 
Spanish  authorities,  and  could  give  no  plausible  explanation  of  my 
condition;  capture  might  mean  death,  it  would  certainly  mean  loss 
of  Dolores.  Soon  we  were  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  at  that 


"THE  BALLS  WHISTLED  AROUND  us." 


86  WESTERN  WILDS. 

season  not  too  deep  for  fording;  but  our  pursuers  gained  fast  upon 
us.  As  we  neared  the  American  shore  they  reached  the  opposite 
bank,  and  with  a  yell  of  rage  at  being  foiled,  discharged  a  volley 
from  their  scoupetas.  The  balls  whistled  around  us;  I  only  noted 
that  the  animal  did  not  fall,  then  spurred  him  on,  and  in  another 
moment  he  scrambled  up  to  the  northern  bank,  and  we  were  safe 
upon  American  soil. 

"Safe!  Oh,  merciful  powers,  why  had  we  not  an  hour  more  in  the 
start?  Why  had  we  come  safely  through  such  perils  only  to  part 
when  our  haven  was  won  ?  Dolores'  arm  tightened  about  my  waist — 
she  did  not  speak.  I  turned  with  a  glad  smile,  a  word  of  love  and 
cheer  upon  my  lips.  She  was  deadly  pale,  and  I  had  barely  time  to 
dismount,  when  she  fainted  in  my  arms..  A  shot  had  entered  her 

giQp  )£      •  9|t        «|C        3p         *P         *f* 

"  But  anguish  was  unavailing.  There  was  no  time  for  regrets.  Cold 
water,  rest  and  shade  were  imperative.  Clasping  her  in  my  arms,  I 
bounded  up  the  rocks,  and  laid  her  by  a  little  pool  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliff.  I  dashed  the  water  upon  her  face  and  loosed  her  clothing. 
She  revived: 

" '  Holy  Virgin,  spare  him,  guide  and  protect  him/ 
"There  was  no  word  for  herself.     Then  starting  up  fiercely: 
" l  The   padre !     The   padre !     Bring    the   padre  ! '   she    exclaimed. 
Then  recollecting :  ( No,  it  is  too  late !  too  late  ! ' 

"  My  agony  was  terrible.  I  wrung  her  hands,  and  implored  her  to 
live.  My  wife,  my  dear  wife,  with  whom  I  had  shared  so  many  perils, 
who  had  saved  my  life;  must  she  lose  her  own  by  following  me?  must 
she  die  here  when  we  were  beyond  danger? 

"  She  soon  revived  and  gave  me  hope.  For  a  few  moments  we  con- 
versed, and  a  thrill  of  delight  shook  my  frame  when  she  spoke  and 
smiled.  But  it  was  brief.  She  felt  no  pain ;  her  hurt  was  unto  death. 
Soon  her  eye  grew  dim.  She  drew  a  small  crucifix  from  her  bosom, 
and  held  it  before  her  face,  while  she  clasped  my  hand.  Her  glazing 
eye  was  fixed  upon  the  emblem: 

"  '  Oh,  Sancta  Maria  !     0 — ra — pro — no— bis / ' 

"  I  took  her  in  my  arms.  She  glanced  at  me — speechless,  with  an 
ineffable  smile — pointed  upward,  and  was  gone.  *  *  It  was  night, 
but  I  still  held  her  in  my  arms.  I  could  not  consent.  I  would  not 
have  it  so ;  she  was  mine ;  I  would  not  yield  her  to  death.  *  *  * 
Then,  laying  her  on  the  grass.  I  raved,  prayed  and  cursed  by  turns. 

"  Morning  found  me  still  there,  but  exhausted.  The  first  fierce 
agony  of  grief  had  yielded  to  a  dull  pain,  which  seemed  unending. 


DOLORES.  87 

Farther  up  in  the  foot-hills  I  found  a  secluded  cove,  walled  in  by 
precipitous  rocks  and  beautiful  with  bright-hued  mountain  flowers; 
and  there,  with  my  hunting-knife,  I  dug  her  graye.  Taking  one  tress 
from  her  dark  hair,  I  laid  her  to  rest,  then  wandered  away  in  the 
mountains,  careless  what  became  of  me.  The  buds  of  the  mountain 
rose,  with  a  few  raspberries,  were  my  only  food  for  days ;  often  I  pon- 
dered whether  I  should  not  abandon  exertion,  and  yield  a  life  which 
was  worth  so  little.  But  life  is  sweet,  and  youth  does  not  easily  sur- 
render it. 

"The  fifth  day,  I  was  found  by  a  party  of  hunters,  who  took  me 
to  Fort  Lancaster,  where  I  was  received  as  one  risen  from  the  dead. 
The  mountain  fever,  natural  result  of  my  toils  and  suiferings,  now 
prostrated  me,  and  for  weeks  I  hovered  between  life  and  death. 
The  late  autumn  saw  me  again  abroad,  and  with  returning  strength 
came  a  desire  for  vengeance.  I  sought  the  capital  of  Texas  to 
take  arms  against  the  Mexicans,  but  a  sort  of  peace  had  been  made. 
Dissatisfied,  restless,  but  with  my  yearning  for  revenge  not  quite 
gone,  I  drifted  eastward  and  through  the  State  of  Louisiana.  In 
the  spring  of  1846  I  descended  Red  River  to  New  Orleans.  Retir- 
ing late  the  night  of  my  arrival,  and  utterly  ignorant  of  what  had 
occurred  among  nations  for  many  months,  in  the  morning  I  was 
wakened  by  the  noise  of  fife  and  drum,  by  the  yells  of  a  multitude 
in  the  streets,  and  the  Jong  resonant  cry  of  a  recruiting  agent: 

" ( Turn  out !  Turn  out !  all  you  who  are  willing  to  fight  for  your 
country !  General  Taylor  is  surrounded,  and  in  all  probability  cut 
to  pieces,  but  come  on  and  take  revenge  out  of  the  d — d  Mexicans ! ' 

"  I  was  mad  with  joy.  Without  breakfast,  and  scarcely  more  than 
half  dressed,  I  ran  into  the  street,  and  was  soon  in  the  ranks  of  the 
recruits.  The  old  cannon  of  1812  were  brought  out  and  thundered 
through  the  city;  thousands,  tens  of  thousands  thronged  the  streets, 
with  loud  cries  for  country  and  vengeance,  and  before  the  next  night 
a  full  regiment  was  ready  to  embark.  The  incoming  boat  from 
Matamoras  brought  news  that,  instead  of  being  '  cut  to  pieces/  your 
general  had  really  been  victorious  at  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  cle  la 
Palma ;  but  there  was  no  cessation  in  the  excitement  and  the  volun- 
teering. In  a  wonderful 'y  short  time  our  little  command  was  on  the 
Rio  Grande.  But  there  was  a  long  period  of  inaction,  and  before  it 
ended,  I,  with  many  others,  was  transferred  to  the  army  near  Vera 
Cruz.  Then  there  was  action  enough. 

"  At  Cerro  Gordo,  Cherubusco,  Chepultepec,  in  a  dozen  fierce  en- 
counters, I  sought  death  where  others  fell,  but  found  it  not.  I  stood 


88  WESTEMN   WILDS. 

amid  smoke  and  carnage,  and  saw  my  companions  fall  on  all  sides  • 
I  marched  where  shells  plowed  the  earth  and  swords  gleamed 
in  the  air,  but  passed  them  all  and  lived.  But  the  storm  which 
brought  death  to  others,  brought  a  strange  quiet  to  me.  I  saw  so 
much  death  that  it  reconciled  me  to  life ;  I  saw  such  suffering  among 
the  poor  people  we  had  come  to  fight,  that  pity  took  the  place  of 
hate,  and  I  grew  ashamed  of  my  thoughts  of  vengeance.  The  regi- 
ment to  which  I  belonged  was  the  first  to  be  discharged.  Then  a 
longing  grew  upon  me  to  revisit  my  native  land,  and  early  in  1848 
I  took  passage  for  Havre.  But  I  reached  Geneva  only  to  find  all 
Europe  rocking  with  revolution.  Storms  and  tumult  were  to  be  my 
element ;  I  might  change  my  sky,  I  could  not  change  my  destiny. 

"It  was  the  year  of  revolution.  France  ejected  Louis  Philippe; 
Berlin  followed  in  a  few  days  with  the  students'  insurrection,  and 
the  capture  of  the  palace;  the  Viennese  were  soon  in  arms;  Hun- 
gary struggled  bravely  against  perfidious  Austria ;  even  the  long 
enslaved  Italians  rose  against  Carlo  Alberto,  and  little  Baden  dared 
the  anger  of  Prussia.  In  vain  the  tears  and  prayers  of  my  mother, 
in  vain  the  caresses  of  my  sisters  and  nieces,  or  the  calm  arguments 
of  my  father;  they  had  found  me  only  to  lose  me  at  once.  I  hur- 
ried to  join  the  Badenischen  insurgents,  then  hastily  organizing 
against  the  Prussian  regulars.  For  awhile  all  went  well.  It  seemed 
that  man  was  at  last  to  be  free.  But  our  triumphing  was  short. 
France  took  another  Napoleon ;  the  troops  fired  on  the  Berlin 
patriots ;  Wiindischgratz  bombarded  Vienna ;  Gorgey  surrendered 
without  a  battle,  and  the  little  band  under  Kossuth,  driven  to  the 
inhospitable  plains  of  inner  Hungary,  succumbed  to  the  mongrel 
hordes  of  Cossack,  Sclav,  and  Carpathian,  poured  upon  them  by  the 
Russian  Czar.  The  Badenischen  army,  too,  retreated,  and  the  revo- 
lutionists mostly  sought  the  New  World.  The  best  blood  of  the 
fatherland  was  expelled,  and  Germany's  loss  became  America's  gain. 

"With  many  others  I  was  captured;  but,  unlike  them,  I  was  a 
citizen  of  no  country,  and  could  claim  no  protection  or  ask  no 
clemency.  Four  long  years  I  languished  in  a  German  prison.  Need 
I  recall  the  lonesome  hours?  The  days  of  unavailing  struggle  with 
myself;  the  nights  of  restless  tossing,  or  sleep  haunted  by  dreams 
of  the  dead.  Daily  I  watched  the  gleam  of  yellow  light  breaking 
in  through  the  little  grating  above  my  head,  slowly  moving  around 
the  walls  of  my  dungeon,  and  dying  away  at  last  on  the  opposite 
side.  The  daily  passage  of  that  ray  was  my  only  relic  of  a  bright 
past,  my  all  of  life,  of  light,  of  liberty.  Nightly  I  sought  relief  by 


DOLORES,  89 

thoughts  that  reached  beyond  the  tomb ;  the  dim  rays  of  natural 
religion  barely  gave  a  gleam  of  hope  that  Dolores  still  lived  in 
another  sphere — they  might  feebly  cheer,  they  could  not  guide  me. 
And  even  as  I  recalled  that  nightly  hope,  or  watched  that  daily  ray, 
I  ultimately  resigned  myself  to  look  for  happiness  only  beyond  the 
grave,  or  nursed  the  hope  of  liberty  and  revenge.  Ah !  could  I 
escape,  I  would  raise  a  band  of  dead  hearts  like  mine  and  wage  in- 
expiable war  on  kings. 

"  At  last  all  hope  died  out.  Even  the  desire  for  vengeance  died. 
I  was  conscious  only  of  a  dull  pain.  The  memory  of  the  dead 
seemed  as  a  dream  of  long  forgotten  years ;  and  when  I  spoke,  as 
sometimes  I  did,  aloud,  my  own  voice  jarred  on  my  ear.  For  two 
years  the  jailer  who  brought  my  food  was  all  I  saw ;  then  for  awhile 
I  had  a  companion  in  captivity.  But  we  said  little;  confinement 
had  deadened  the  social  instincts.  We  talked  neither  of  the  strug- 
gles of  the  past,  nor  of  hope  for  the  future ;  our  hearts  had  died  in 
the  awful  solitude.  Without  passing  through  death,  we  were  inmates 
of  the  tomb. 

"Why  I  was  released  finally  I  never  knew.  But  I  was,  with  all 
the  others,  probably  because  all  danger  of  insurrection  was  past,  and 
the  government  regarded  us  with  contempt.  But  I  came  into  the 
world  as  not  of  it.  My  father  had  died  late  in  '48  ;  my  mother, 
worn  with  grief,  had  soon  followed  him ;  my  sisters  had  married 
even  before  my  return  from  America,  and  other  cares  and  other 
loves  filled  their  hearts.  Worse  than  all,  liberty  was  dead.  France, 
Germany,  Italy,  Hungary,  had  yielded  again  to  despots;  I  saw  no 
hope,  for  the  rights  of  man.  Again  I  sought  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
whose  majestic  scenery  brought  balm  to  my  wounded  heart.  I  have 
learned  that  he  who  yields  to  fierce  impulses  or  excessive  feeling, 
does  so  but  to  lay  bai*e  his  soul  to  a  thousand  strokes ;  that  he  who 
would  move  faster  than  his  age,  will  soon  be  alone  with  sorrow,  and 
that  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  conies  not  by  spasmodic  struggles,  but 
by  steady  toil. 

"  Here,  where  my  misery  began,  in  communion  with  mighty 
nature  I  find  peace.  The  memory  of  Dolores  has  become  a  mild 
joy ;  her  image  is  ever  present  to  cheer  me.  The  thought  of  our 
affection  has  become  a  sort  of  religion.  Near  where  I  found  and 
lost  her,  I  best  love  to  dwell,  and  every  returning  autumn  finds  me 
a  pilgrim  to  the  little  mountain  gleu  that  contains  her  grave." 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

POLYGAMIA. 

TURN  back  the  wheels  of  time,  imaginative  reader,  from  1874  to  the 
autumn  of  1868,  and  allow  the  author  to  resume  his  personal  narrative. 
The  first  storm  of  the  season  had  just  tipped  the  summits  of  the 
Wasatch  with  light  snow,  while  summer  still  smiled  upon  the  valleys, 
when  our  train  wound  slowly  through  Parley's  Cafion,  and  emerged 
upon  the  eastern  "  bench,"  from  which  I  obtained  my  first  view  of  the 

Mormon  Capital.  The  city  stands 
at  the  north-east  corner  of  a  valley 
shaped  like  a  horse-shoe — the 
Wasatch  the  eastern  boundary, 
the  Oquirrah  the  western,  and  the 
lake  lying  to  the  north-west  across 
the  open  end.  A  small  spur  puts 
out  westwardly  from  the  Wasatch, 
and  breaks  down  in  successive 
"benches"  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  city ;  out  of  it  flow  City  Creek 
and  several  smaller  streams,  and 
along  its  base  bubble  up  hot  chem- 
ical springs  and  fountains  of  pure 
brine. 

The  topography  is  Palestine  re- 
produced. We  have  Lake  Utah,  a  fresh  water  mountain  tarn,  dis- 
charging through  the  Jordan  into  another  Dead  Sea — the  Great  Salt 
Lake.  Along  the  Jordan  extends  a  fertile  but  narrow  valley,  its 
widest  section  near  the  city;  all  around  are  mountains,  and  beyond 
those  mountains  long  desert  wastes,  with  only  here  and  there  a  fertile 
spot.  North  of  Salt  Lake  City  numerous  coves  indent  the  mountains ; 
in  each  is  a  small  fertile  tract  and  a  Mormon  settlement,  while  south- 
ward, for  four  hundred  miles,  is  a  series  of  narrow,  fan-shaped  valleys 
settled  in  like  manner. 

I  found  the  city  a  nice  place  to  rest  in,  especially  in  September;  and 
after  a  journey  of  eight  hundred  miles  over  barren  plains,  like  all  vis- 

(90) 


BRIGHAM  YOUNG. 


POLYGAMIA. 


91 


itors,  I  exaggerated  its  beauty.  There  was  first  the  morning  walk  in 
the  dry,  bracing  air,  then  a  plunge  in  the  warm -spring  bath,  and  an 
indulgence  in  the  luscious  Salt  Lake  peaches,  after  which  the  day  was 
devoted  to  investigating  Mormonism.  I  called  upon  all  the  Mormon 
worthies.  First  upon  Orson  Pratt,  solitary  as  the  only  man  of  learning 
in  the  Church,  and  that  learning  singularly  one-sided.  At  once  a  fa- 
natic and  a  mathematician  (unique  combination),  he  has  devoted  a  life- 
time of  labor  and  sacrifice  to  perverting  the  Scripture,  in  the  vain  at- 
tempt to  bring  back  the  modern  world  to  the  social  system  of  the  Asiat- 
ics, and  a  worse  than  Jewish  theocracy. 

At  once  the  poorest,  proudest,  most  learned,  and  most  devoted  of 
the  elders,  he  is  also  the  worst 
snubbed  by  Brigham  Young, 
who  has  often  taken  a  vulgar 
delight  in  humbling  the  man 
whose  culture  and  scholarship 
he  can  not  forgive.  While  he 
is  systematically  ignored  in  the 
government  of  the  Church,  yet 
when  the  Tabernacle  has  an 
array  of  Eastern  visitors,  he 
is  invariably  put  up  to  defend 
the  doctrines  of  Joe  Smith  and 
Brigham;  and  so,  while  best 
known  to  the  world  of  any  man 
in  Brigham's  kingdom,  he  is 
constantly  in  trouble,  and  some- 
times on  the  ragged  edge  of 
starvation.  In  early  life  he 
was  a  man  of  action — a  traveling  missionary,  eloquent  in  the  cause  and 
full  of  zeal,  a  successful  preacher,  and  voluminous  writer;  now  he  is  a 
dreaming  astronomer,  whose  head  is  among  the  stars. 

Later  I  met  W.  H.  Hooper,  monogamous  delegate  in  Congress 
from  this  polygamous  territory,  a  man  for  whom  I  at  first  entertained 
some  respect,  but  learned  to  distrust  by  reason  of  his  action  in  regard 
to  the  Mountain  Meadow  murderers.  A  Marylander  of  the  old  type, 
native  of  the  "  eastern  shore,"  first  a  merchant's  clerk  and  then  cap- 
tain of  a  Mississippi  steamer,  he  started  across  the  plains  in  1850  on 
a  business  venture ;  but  on  arriving  in  Utah  found  a  Mormon  wife 
and  an  appropriate  mission,  as  the  plausible  go-between  to  do  Brig- 
ham's  work  among  Gentile  law-makers.  It  is  not  possible  that  a 


OiiSON   PKATT. 


92 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


man  of  his  mental  make-up  ever  believed  Mormonism ;  the  more  rea- 
sonable supposition  is  that  he,  like  many  other  leaders  of  this  people, 
holds  all  religions  in  equal  indifference,  but  finds  his  account  in 
this  one,  and  is  willing  the  Church  should  run  along  as  comfortably 
as  may  be,  while  he  accumulates  wealth  and  takes  physical  comfort. 
The  husband  of  but  one  wife,  he  has  never  held  ecclesiastical  position 
in  the  Church,  but  has  been  remarkably  useful  during  many  years 
service  at  Washington.  In  1872,  Brigham  concluded  that  a  polyga- 
mous people  ought  to  be  represented  by  a  polygamist,  and  accordingly 
sent  George  Q.  Cannon,  the  four-wived  apostle,  to  Washington.  Con- 
gress, which  expelled  Bowen  for  having  two  wives,  admitted  Cannon 
with  four,  and  Hooper  returned  to  his  store  and  bank.  As  all  things 
spiritual  are  in  doubt,  any  man  is  excusable  for  believing  any  relig- 
ion ;  but  we  can  barely  excuse  one  who,  in  mere  indifference,  pro- 
fesses belief  in  the  worst  imposture  of  the  age. 

My  best  interview  was  with 
George  A.  Smith,  full  cousin 
to  the  original  Joe,  and  then 
an  apostle,  but  a  little  later 
chosen  in  full  conference  to 
the  place  of  Heber  C.  Kim- 
ball,  deceased,  as  First  Coun- 
cilor to  Brigham  Young. 
This  man  was  long  known 
among  Gentiles  as  the  most 
gorgeous  liar  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  had  four 
sermons,  usually  selecting  the 
one  most  fitting  to  the  occa- 
sion ;  and  recited  the  history 
of  the  Church  with  such  an 
ingenious  mixture  of  fact  and 
fiction,  that  his  dazed  hearers 
accepted  the  whole  as  gospel.  In  his  narrative,  Mormonism  had  a 
roll  of  martyrs  longer  than  that  of  the  primitive  church,  and  an  array 
of  miracles  which  quite  put  the  Mosaic  record  in  the  background. 
Of  sanguine  temperament,  easily  believing  every  thing  that  made  for 
the  glory  of  Mormonism,  and  throwing  off  with  equal  ease  whatever 
might  have  suggested  doubt  to  an  earnest  thinker,  fully  persuaded  of 
the  Mormon  doctrine,  that  it  was  right  to  deceive  for  the  good  of  the 
Church,  and  with  a  brilliant  imagination,  that  made  him  believe  any 


GEORGE  A.  SMITH. 


POLYGAMIA.  93 

thing  he  had  told  three  times,  he  was  by  nature  well  fitted  for  the 
place  he  had  occupied  from  the  first — that  of  Church  Historian. 

To  him  all  doubtful  points  in  Mormon  annals  were  referred  as  to 
an  infallible  oracle.  When  Gentile  visitors  to  the  tabernacle  were 
to  be  impressed,  he  stood  next  to  Orson  Pratt,  and  when  doubtful 
questions  were  to  be  settled  in  favor  of  Brigham's  pet  designs,  he 
found  a  precedent  or  made  one  with  equal  readiness.  He  consist- 
ently believed  and  taught  that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  Mormon  laity 
"  to  be  as  a  tallowed  rag  in  the  hands  of  the  priesthood ; "  of  each 
order  of  the  priesthood  to  yield  implicit  obedience  to  their  superiors 
next  in  rank ;  and  of  all  orders,  to  be  subject  to  the  lightest  command 
of  their  divinely  appointed  leader,  Brigham  Young.  To  the  last  of 
his  life  he  obeyed  Brigham's  lightest  request,  and  died  in  the  confi- 
dent faith  that  he  could  only  enter  heaven  on  Brigham's  voucher, 
properly  indorsed  by  Joseph  Smith.  To  such  depths  of  abasement 
may  the  heaven-born  intellect  sink.  He  was  succeeded  as  First 
Councilor  by  Brigham's  son,  "Johnnie"  Young;  for  it  is  one  of 
the  "  first  principles  of  the  gospel"  as  known  in  Utah,  that  all  power 
is  to  be  kept  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  Smiths  and  Youngs. 

Daniel  H.  Wells  was  then,  and  is  now,  Brigham's  Second  Councilor, 
these  three  constituting  the  First  Presidency  of  the  Church,  and  having 
the  right  of  final  decision  on  all  appeals  from  the  lower  priesthood,  of 
whatever  branch.  Wells  is,  by  popular  election  and  "Divine  ap- 
pointment," a  Prophet  and  a  Squire,  a  Mayor  and  a  President,  a 
Lieutenant-General  and  the  husband  of  five  wives.  He  is  a  tall,  an- 
gular and  most  ungainly  Saint,  whose  face  and  head  bear  involuntary 
witness  to  the  truth  of  Darwinism.  Borrowing  a  term  from  dime- 
novel  literature,  the  Gentiles  style  him  "  The  one-eyed  pirate  of  the 
Wasatch."  Long  acquaintance  with  his  career  has  only  confirmed 
my  first  impression  of  him:  he  is  the  most  dangerous  man  in  the 
priesthood.  The  others  are  mostly  impostors ;  he  believes  it,  bloody 
doctrines  and  all.  Had  he  held  the  reins  from  1870  till  1873,  he 
would  have  precipitated  a  savage  conflict,  and  the  end  would  have 
been — Mormonism  drowned  in  blood,  as  was  the  Anabaptist  schism, 
or  a  new  development  and  fresh  lease  of  life  on  the  cry  of  "  persecu- 
tion." It  is  well  that  he  has  small  chance  of  succeeding  Brigham ; 
so  much  more  dangerous  is  a  fanatic  than  an  impostor. 

Brigham  Young  I  did  not  see  or  converse  with  till  some  time 
after,  but  was  for  many  years  familiar  with  his  appearance  in  the 
pulpit.  Physically,  the  man  is  as  near  perfect  as  is  ever  allowed  to 
one  of  our  wretchedly  developed  race.  Six  feet  high  and  uucom- 


94  WESTERN    WILDS. 

tnonly  well  muscled,  he  is  yet  so  compactly  built  that  strangers  in- 
variably pronounce  him  smaller  than  he  is;  and  one  who  first  sees 
him  step  out  of  his  carriage  on  Main  Street,  clad  in  his  short,  gray 
business  coat,  is  apt  to  speak  of  him  as  "dumpy."  He  measures 
forty-four  inches  around  the  chest,  and  weighs  at  least  two  hundred 
pounds  ;  his  hands  and  feet  are  rather  large,  his  head  extremely  so, 
and  very  broad  across  the  base,  sloping  thence  before  and  behind 
toward  the  crown.  With  very  light  or  golden  hair,  a  cold,  glitter- 
ing blue  eye  and  a  massive  under-jaw  that  shuts  like  a  vice,  he  has 
the  firmness  and  vigor  that  usually  consist  with  such  an  organiza- 
tion, and  that  happy  mixture  of  the  sanguine  and  bilious  tempera- 
ments which  makes  one  easily  believe  himself  a  man  of  destiny.  Of 
the  hardiest  Vermont  stock,  he  was  put  up  by  nature  to  last  a  hundred 
and  twenty  years,  but  hardships  and  the  worry  of  governing  have 
shortened  his  life  from  twenty  to  forty  years,  and  he  may  die  any- 
where between  eighty  and  a  hundred,  retaining  possession  of  his  fac- 
ulties and  growing  more  tyrannical  and  avaricious  to  the  last. 

Not  at  all  a  talented  man  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word,  his 
power  is  largely  the  result  of  his  immense  physical  potency.  His 
physique  is  one  that  makes  a  man  do  and  dare,  and  then  take  the 
results  of  that  doing  and  daring  as  marks  of  divine  favor.  Even 
sneering  unbelievers  who  shake  hands  with  him  feel  the  impress  of 
his  magnetic  potentiality,  nor  is  it  pleasant  to  face  him  with  the  con- 
sciousness that  one  is  his  enemy.  Many  an  apostate  can  bear  wit- 
ness that  long  after  being  convinced  that  Mormonism  was  a  hollow 
fraud,  which  he  ought  to  abandon,  and  could  abandon  without 
danger,  he  still  felt  a  grievous  dread  of  standing  up  in  the  "School 
of  the  Prophets"  to  face  the  wrath  of  Brigham  Young.  To  women 
of  the  uncultured  and  impressible  sort,  such  a  man  is  often  as  fas- 
cinating as  a  gentle  and  purring  lion :  one  with  all  power  in  reserve 
to  be  exercised  only  for  them  and  upon  their  enemies.  Even  a  few 
non-Mormon  women  have  confessed  a  mild  admiration  for  this  mass 
of  power,  and  at  least  two  Gentile  ladies  have  so  far  forgotten  them- 
selves as  to  write  in  fulsome  praise  of  a  man  whose  very  existence  is 
a  standing  insult  to  womanhood.  Such  respect  hath  great  native 
power  and  virile  force. 

Before  an  audience  in  sympathy  with  him  he  is  an  effective  speaker; 
he  can,  by  a  series  of  strong,  nervous  appeals,  carry  them  along  to 
almost  any  pitch  of  excitement,  and  commit  them,  by  voice  and  vote, 
to  almost  any  absurdity.  Add  a  ready  command  of  language,  albeit 
the  vernacular  of  an  uneducated  Vermonter,  and  rare  powers  as  a 


POL  YQAM1A. 


95 


mimic,  and  we  have  the  secret  of  Brigham's  strength  as  an  orator. 
Of  eloquence  he  has  none  whatever;  before  a  cultured  or  critical 
audience  he  would  be  a  hopeless  failure.  Whatever  greatness  he  has, 
finds  its  source  in  his  splendid  physical  organization.  Thence  is  his 
energy,  his  invincible  will,  his  iron  disregard  of  the  sufferings  of 
others — the  qualities  that  have  made  him.  His  was  also  the  rare 
good  fortune  to  fall  just  at  the  right  time  into  just  the  right  place  for 
his  peculiar  talents;  for  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  in  the  ordinary 
pursuits  of  life  he  would  have  made  more  than  ordinary  success. 
The  accident  of  one  man's  death  and  the  apostasy  of  two  others,  made 
him  President  of  the  Twelve  Apostles  just  before  Joe  Smith's  death; 
after  that  event,  there  was  none  to  oppose  him  save  the  flighty  and  un- 
reliable Sidney  Rigdon,  whom  the  Mormons  had  never  trusted,  and  so 
Brigham  necessarily  became  head  of  the  Church. 


BRIGHAM'S   RESIDENCES. 


It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  in  almost  every  scheme  Brigham  has 
undertaken,  except  managing  the  Mormons,  he  has  completely  failed. 
His  Colorado  warehouses,  beet-sugar  factories,  Cottonwood  Canal,  B. 
Y.  Express,  and  hand-cart  emigration  scheme,  one  and  all,  proved  dis- 
astrous failures,  the  last  resulting  in  three  hundred  deaths,  and  the 
most  frightful  suffering.  Similarly  every  colony  Brigham  has  sent  to 
the  surrounding  territories  has  finally  been  abandoned  as  a  failure, 
from  Lemhi,  on  the  north,  to  San  Bernardino,  on  the  south.  Not  a 
few  look  forward  to  his  death  as  a  great  aid  to  the  disintegration  of 
Mormondom;  his  continued  life  will  do  far  more  in  that  direction. 
"When  he  took  command  of  the  Mormons  they  had,  according  to  their 
own  accounts,  over  200,000  members  in  all  the  world;  now  they  num- 


96  WESTERN  WILDS. 

ber  less  than  half  as  many.  They  submitted  all  to  him,  and  he  has 
spent  thirty  years  in  teaching  them  the  terrors  of  a  religious  despot- 
ism. Thousands  have  learned  that  it  is  easy  to  surrender  rights,  but 
hard  to  regain  them.  At  first  he  only  robbed  his  devotees,  now 
he  insults  them.  A  few  more  years  of  power  and  he  will,  to  quote  the 
language  of  a  Mormon,  "  hitch  them  up  and  plow  the  ground  with 
them." 

Many  intelligent  men  have  concluded  that  Brigham  was  honest 
in  his  religious  professions.  I  can  not  agree  with  them.  I  might 
reject  all  other  evidence  of  his  hypocrisy,  but  I  can  not  reject  his 
own.  Again  and  again  he  lias  virtually  admitted  that  his  religion 
was  a  mere  convenience.  To  a  young  Mormon  friend  of  the  writer, 
whom  he  was  urging  to  return  to  the  fold,  Brigham  said:  "It  makes 
no  difference  whether  you  believe  in  it  or  not;  we  need  you;  just 
come  along  and  be  baptized,  and  pay  up  a  little  on  your  tithing,  and 
it  will  be  all  right."  To  another  he  said :  "  It's  no  great  concern 
what  you  believe ;  I  've  got  as  good  a  right  to  start  a  new  religion 
as  Christ  or  Mohammed,  or  any  other  man."  And  yet  again,  when 
speaking  of  the  vote  of  each  semi-annual  conference  indorsing  him 
as  a  prophet,  he  said;  "I  am  neither  a  prophet  nor  the  son  of  a 
prophet,  but  I  have  been  profitable  to  this  people."  Since  then  the 
Gentiles  have  usually  designated  him  "The  Profit."  There  was  a' 
time,  I  think,  when  he  believed  his  religion  and  worked  hard  for 
it ;  but  as  he  rose  in  the  Church  he  learned  more,  and  became  what 
he  practically  describes  himself,  a  philosophic  infidel.  A  man  whose 
convictions  depend  largely  on  his  interests,  with  a  happy  power  of 
self-deception,  a  great  deal  of  cunning,  some  executive  ability,  and 
behind  it  all  an  immense  physical  potency,  with  little  mercy  or  con- 
science to  temper  it — such,  in  brief,  is  Brigham  Young. 

Late  in  September,  I  took  a  walk  to  Bear  River  Cafion,  some 
eighty  miles  north  of  the  city,  stopping  often  with  the  rural  Saints 
and  noting  their  ways.  This  trip  was  through  the  most  enlightened 
part  of  Utah,  almost  the  only  part  the  Eastern  tourist  ever  sees. 
The  villages  are  neat  and  quiet,  and  the  little  farms  well  watered 
and  cultivated.  But  even  here  the  great  lack  is  apparent.  The 
Saints  have  adopted  the  bee  as  their  emblem,  and  have  stopped 
with  the  blind  instincts  of  the  bee — content  with  food  and  shelter, 
with  but  little  regard  for  the  higher  man.  Near  Ogden  was  an 
old  Dane,  living  with  a  mother  and  two  daughters  as  wives;  in 
Brigham  City  lived  a  bishop,  married  to  two  of  his  own  nieces,  and 
near  Bear  River  was  another  Dane,  living  with  three  wives  in  a 


POLYQAMIA.  97 

^abin  not  large  enough  to  make  one  comfortable.  Such  cases  were 
my  first  select  specimens  of  the  practical  operations  of  the  "  Celes- 
tial Law."  As  this  was  but  one  of  many  journeys  I  made  in 
Utah,  a  few  general  notes  on  the  topography  will  be  in  order. 

The  Wasatch  Mountains  on  the  east,  and  Sierra  Nevada  on  the 
west,  like  the  two  sides  of  a  (  ),  inclose  a  region  known  as  the 
Great  Basin,  in  which  nature  appears  to  have  worked  on  a  dif- 
ferent plan  from  that  pursued  in  the  rest  of  the  country.  All  the 
streams  run  towards  the  center,  none  towards  the  sea;  a  river  is 
larger  at  the  head  than  at  the  mouth — when  it  has  a  mouth — very 
few  of  the  lakes  have  any  outlet,  and,  with  rare  exceptions,  both 
pools  and  lakes  are  bitter  with  salt,  iron,  lime,  or  alkali.  From 
the  mountains  which  form  the  rim  of  the  Great  Basin,  sub-ranges 
successively  fall  off  towards  the  center,  and  the  whole  interior  plain 
is  an  almost  unbroken  desert.  But  from  the  Wasatch  and  Sierras 
many  streams  put  out  towards  the  center,  and,  at  the  points  where 
they  leave  the  mountains,  are  bordered  by  little  fan-shaped  valleys. 
These,  constitute  all  the  cultivable  land  in  the  Basin ;  the  rest  is 
fit  only  for  timber  or  grazing,  or  is  totally  barren.  Throughout 
the  Basin  all  the  detached  mountains  run  north  and  south;  on 
them  is  the  only  timber,  and  about  their  base  the  only  grass  to  be 
found.  If  the  mountain  is  high  enough  to  supply  melting  snow 
throughout  the  summer,  there  may  be  a  settlement  at  its  base; 
otherwise  all  the  streams  that  issue  from  it  will  be  dry  in  early 
spring,  and  cultivation,  that  is  to  say,  irrigation,  be  impossible. 

Southward,  the  country  grows  steadily  dryer  and  more  barren ; 
the  valleys  smaller,  the  deserts  larger,  the  streams  more  unreliable. 
In  Arizona  and  Southern  Utah,  I  found  it  difficult,  indeed,  to  get 
water  twice  in  a  day's  ride.  In  the  north  the  most  rugged  mount- 
ains are  relieved  by  graceful  adjuncts;  there  is  a  gradual  ascent 
from  plain  to  bench,  from  bench  to  foot-hill  and  lower  sub-range, 
and  over  all  is  a  faint  green  tinge  from  brush  or  bunch-grass,  or 
a  dreamy  haze  that  softens  the  rudest  outlines.  But  in  the  south 
there  is  a  grandeur  that  is  awfully  suggestive — suggestive  of  death 
and  worn-out  lands,  of  cosmic  convulsions  and  volcanic  catastro- 
phes that  .  swept  away  whole  races  of  pre-Adamites.  There  the 
broad  plateaus  are  cut  abruptly  by  deep  cartons  with  perpendicular 
sides,  sometimes  2000  feet  in  height ;  there  is  a  less  gradual  ap- 
proach to  the  highest  ranges,  and  the  peaks  stand  out  sharply  de- 
fined against  a  hard  blue  sky.  The  air  is  noticeably  dryer ;  there 
is  no  haze  to  soften  the  view,  and  the  severe  outlines  of  the  cliffs 
7 


98  WESTERN  WILDS. 

seem  to  frown  menacingly  upon  one  who  threads  the  canons.  Nee- 
dle rocks  project  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  general  level,  while 
hard  volcanic  dykes  ris§  above  the  softer  lime  or  sandstone — 
mighty  battlements,  abrupt  and  unpassable — Pelion  upon  Ossa  piled, 
as  in  Titanic  war. 

The  western  half  of  the  great  Basin  is  Nevada,  the  eastern,  Mor- 
mon Utah.  All  that  part  of  the  Territory  east  of  the  Wasatch  is 
still  the  range  of  the  Mountain  Ute,  and,  for  the  most  part,  unfit 
for  white  settlements.  As  nine-tenths  of  the  cultivable  land  lies 
along  the  western  base  of  the  Wasatch,  in  the  little  detached  val- 
leys mentioned,  it  results  that  Mormon  Utah  consists  of  a  narrow 
line  of  settlements  down  the  center  of  the  Territory:  an  attenuated 
commonwealth  rarely  more  than  ten  miles  wide,  but  nearly  sev<m 
hundred  miles  long — from  Oneida,  in  Idaho,  to  the  Rio  Virgen,  in 
Arizona.  Geographically,  it  nearly  fills  the  definition  of  a  line — 
extension  without  breadth  or  thickness.  Such  communities  would 
naturally  develop  a  different  system  of  law  and  social  organization 
from  that  of  a  continuously  fertile  and  habitable  state  like  Illi- 
nois. Manifestly  something  like  the  Cantonal  system  would  spring 
up,  with  the  Commune  as  a  subdivision  of  the  Canton.  But  in 
Utah  theocracy  came  in  to  "\\arp  and  distort  the  natural  growth 
of  government,  and  subordinate  every  thing  to  the  strengthening 
of  priestly  power.  Against  this  the  Gentiles  and  Liberal  Mor- 
mons have  unceasingly  contended,  and  hence  that  interminable  strug- 
gle— theocracy  vs.  republicanism — which  has  so  long  made  up  the 
history  of  Utah,  and  in  which  for  many  years  I  was  an  active  par- 
ticipant. 

Through  all  my  wranderings  in  the  West  I  came  back  to  Utah  as 
my  home,  and  to  this  contest  as  to  my  chosen  field  of  action.  Even 
now  a  glow  comes  over  me  at  thought  of  blows  given  and  taken,  and 
the  little  circle  of  choice  spirits,  half  philosophers,  half  politicians, 
that  helped  make  my  life  in  Utah  so  pleasant.  There  was  O.  J. 
Holltster,  half  enthusiast,  half  business  man,  and  wholly  a  student 
and  man  of  literary  tastes,  who  had  had,  perhaps,  a  more  varied  ex- 
perience than  any  of  the  number.  Reared  in  Columbia  County,  New 
York,  he  early  felt  the  "  cramp "  of  farm  life  there,  and  sought  his 
fortune  first  in  Pennsylvania,  and  then  in  New  Jersey  and  Maryland. 
The  westward  wave  carried  him  to  Kansas,  and  when  the  contest  was 
over  there,  on  to  the  gold  fields  of  Pike's  Peak ;  and  before  his  frame 
had  hardened  into  manhood,  he  was  busy  among  the  pioneers  of  a 
new  State.  Mining,  lumbering,  freighting,  and  ranching  gave  vigor 


POLYGAMIA.  99 

to  his  body  and  mind  till  the  war  broke  out,  when  lie  joined  Gilpin's 
Colorado  regiment.  With  them  he  marched  a  thousand  miles,  and 
helped  drive  Sibley  out  of  New  Mexico,  then  returned,  and  again  en- 
gaged in  mining,  and  finally  graduated  as  an  editor,  in  which  capacity  he 
came  to  Utah.  Our  first  year  there  saw  him  enthusiastic,  eager  for 
reform,  confident  that  wonders  could  be  done  by  union  and  energy. 
A  little  later,  he  married  the  sister  of  Vice-president  Colfax,  took  a 
good  office,  grew  rich  and  conservative,  and  concluded  that  the  Utah 
question  was  to  be  slowly  worked  out  rather  than  quickly  fought 
out. 

There,  too,  was  Colonel  J.  H.  Wickizer,  who  for  six  years  regu- 
lated the  mails  of  Utah,  Montana,  and  Idaho,  and  provided  his  Gen- 
tile friends  with  an  unfailing  store  of  anecdote  and  apt  illustration. 
He  was  long  a  colleague  and  intimate  friend  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 
rode  the  circuit  with  him  in  Illinois,  and  contended  often  with  him 
at  the  bar.  A  man  of  nice  and  discriminating  taste  in  letters,  he 
was  a  walking  encyclopedia  of  Western  wit,  humor,  and  historic  inci- 
dent. His  point  of  attack  was  the  utter  nonsense  of  Mormonism  and 
its  theocratic  government;  for  it  is  to  be  noted  that  all  of  us  thought 
little  and  cared  less  about  the  religion — it  was  the  civil  (or  rather  un- 
civil) government  we  objected  to/ 

Other  active  participants  in  our  political  and  social  plans  were 
Governor  George  L.  Woods  and  Secretary  Geo.  A  Black.  But  the 
central  figure  in  Utah,  during  our  period  of  greatest  excitement,  was 
Chief  Justice  James  B.  McKean.  Descended  on  one  side  from  the 
Machians  of  Scotland,  and  on  the  other  from  the  French  Huguenots 
that  settled  on  Long  Island,  he  seemed  to  unite  the  fearless  consci- 
entiousness of  the  one  race  with  the  tireless  energy  of  the  other.  A 
case  has  been  made  out  against  him  on  the  charge  that  he  was  rather 
fanatical  in  his  dislike  of  polygamy  and  theocracy;  but  it  was  a  kind 
of  fanaticism  we  were  sorely  in  need  of  in  Utah.  He  and  his  col- 
leagues, Justices  Hawley  and  Strickland,  were  the  first  Federal 
judges  wyho  boldly  faced  the  difficulty  presented  by  the  anomalous 
organization  of  the  district  courts.  For  twenty  years  the  United 
States  judges  had  for  the  most  part  yielded  the  point,  and  this  yield- 
ing, threw  all  the  power  into  the  hands  of  the  Mormon  bishops,  who 
acted  as  territorial  judges.  Judge  McKean  decided  that  this  ought 
not  to  be  so;  made  the  United  States  marshal  the  ministerial  officer 
of  his  court;  got  a  grand  jury  over  which  the  Church  had  no  control, 
and  entered  on  an  inquiry  into  the  many  murders  committed  between 
1855  and  1863.  The  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  overruled 


100  WESTERN   WILDS. 

his  decision  after  his  court  had  been  in  operation  twenty  months ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  save  the  Church  from  complete  exposure.  The 
good  had  been  accomplished,  the  evidence  had  been  brought  out,  and 
the  guilt  traced  home ;  and  though  the  final  decision  resulted  in 
turning  a  hundred  and  twenty-eight  murderers  and  other  criminals 
loose,  it  could  not  suppress  the  evidence  already  published.  From 
that  time  forward  the  Mormon  Church  was  on  the  defensive,  and  its 
speakers  ceased  to  apologize  for  murder.  This  great  work  these 
judges  accomplished;  and  if  their  law  was  wrong,  their  action  was 
right,  and  its  results  in  every  way  good  for  Utah. 

In  time,  there  came  to  our  aid  many  independent  Mormons,  men 
of  active  talents,  but  too  much  given  to  verbal  hair-splitting.  They 
were,  one  and  all,  infidels  of  the  toughest  stock;  for  the  man  who  has 
been  a  Mormon  for  many  years  rarely  takes  a  firm  hold  on  any  other 
faith.  Having  been  so  badly  fooled  once,  he  inclines  to  regard  all 
religion  as  either  fraud  or  delusion.  I  smile  at  thought  of  one 
such  who  was  one  of  my  political  co-laborers.  He  talked  long  and 
loud  of  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity,  but  cursed  the  administration, 
and  despaired  of  republican  government;  he  quoted  Tom  Paine  and 
Herbert  Spencer  by  the  hour ;  was  poloquent  on  first  principles  and 
universal  law,  and  argued  on  the  Supreme  Good,  the  control  of 
passion,  and  the  unknowable,  till  he  was  black  in  the  face  with  anger. 
To  him,  the  New  Testament  was  a  myth,  the  Banner  of  Light  a  gos- 
pel ;  he  put  his  faith  in  Spiritual  Philosophy,  and  believed  nearly  every 
thing  but  the  Bible. 

The  warring  factions  were  at  peace  when  I  entered  Utah ;  but  the 
October  conference  of  the  Mormons  renewed  the  fight,  by  issuing  a 
decree  against  all  Gentile  merchants.  It  was  made  cause  of  excom- 
munication for  any  Saint  to  patronize  them  in  any  wray  whatever.  In 
eight  months  ten  Gentile  firms  had  left  the  city,  and  in  August,  1869, 
Salt  Lake  contained  no  more  than  two  hundred  Gentiles.  The  Union 
Pacific  Railroad  was  completed  in  May  of  that  year,  and  let  a  little 
light  into  the  Territory  ;  soon  the  interest  in  mining  revived,  and  we 
turned  our  eyes  towards  the  mountains  as  the  last  hope  for  non-Mor- 
mons. Had  this  resource  failed,  I  am  positive  there  would  not  be  a 
hundred  Gentiles  in  Utah  to-day.  The  social  despotism  of  the  Church 
was  so  great  they  could  not  have  remained. 

In  September,  1869,  I  made  a  pleasant  journey  to  the  Sevier  Mines, 
two  hundred  miles  south  of  Salt  Lake,  in  company  with  some  miners. 
My  memory  does  not  recall  a  more  pleasant  journey.  All  day  we 
rolled  along  through  grassy  meads  or  over  rocky  flats,  with  a  blue  sky 


POLYGAMIA.  101 

overhead,  and  fanned  by  the  soft  airs  of  autumn  in  that  most  delight- 
ful climate.  The  coves  opening  back  into  the  mountains  were  rich  in 
bunch-grass,  in  which  jack-rabbits  were  abundant ;  sage  hens  and 
other  small  fowl  were  numerous  on  the  plain,  and  large  flocks  of 
ducks  were  found  along  the  stream.  The  Sevier  Valley  has  an  aver- 
age elevation  of  five  thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  the  summers  are 
mild,  and  in  winter  snow  rarely  falls  to  any  depth ;  cattle  live  on  the 
range  nine  months  in  the  year,  and  yet  the  region  is  free  from  the 
scorching  heat  of  Arizona.  Very  little  of  the  valley  is  cultivable, 
hoAvever;  stock-ranching  is  the  principal  occupation.  We  passed 
through  seven  Availed  towns,  which  had  been  abandoned  by  the  Mor- 
mons on  account  of  hostile  Indians,  and  were  still  uninhabited.  At 
Marysvale,  last  town  on  the  Sevier,  we  found  the  Mormons  return- 
ing to  their  homes,  peace  having  been  made  with  the  Indians.  There 
we  turned  into  the  mountains,  and  toiled  for  six  hours  in  advancing 

*  ~ 

six  miles  up  Pine  Gulch.  One  moment  we  were  on  the  edge  of  a 
narrow  track  where  an  overturn  would  have  sent  us  a  hundred  feet 
into  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  the  next  struggling  through  a  narrow 
chasm  at  the  bottom  of  the  gulch,  with  walls  of  granite  rising  on  both 
sides  of  us,  and  above  them  the  sloping  sides  of  the  caflon  half  a 
mile  in  height,  and  covered  with  timber  to  the  very  summit.  The 
roaring  brook,  now  beside  us,  now  far  below  us,  and  again  dashing 
against  our  wagon  wheels,  seemed  to  be  singing  of  the  snowy  heights 
whence  it  came;  and  at  every  point  where  a  depression  or  obstructing 
rock  formed  a  pool,  the  shining  mountain  trout  were  to  be  seen  in 
numbers  through  the  clear  fluid,  though  its  temperature  was  but  little 
above  that  of  ice- water. 

After  a  week  in  this  new  mining  region,  I  returned  to  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  to  the  normal  condition  of  a  polemic  editor.  The  tide  had 
turned.  The  Gentiles  were  coming  in  again,  mostly  to  engage  in 
mining,  and  in  a  year  from  that  date  the  Territory  contained  several 
thousand  non-Mormons.  By  the  autumn  of  1871,  all  the  mountains 
of  central  Utah  were  dotted  with  miners'  cabins  and  traversed  by  pros- 
pectors. By  1875,  there  was  a  non-Mormon  population  in  Utah  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  thousand,  with  a  political  organization,  churches, 
schools,  and  daily  papers  of  their  own,  having  political  control  of 
one  county  and  half  a  dozen  towns.  But  the  old  conflict  goes  on 
just  the  same.  A  theocracy  never  yields  power  till  compelled  to.  The 
young  Mormons  welcome  the  change ;  the  older  ones,  and  especially 
the  priesthood,  only  regret  that  they  were  not  more  severe  and  ex- 
clusive when  they  had  the  power.  But  Mormonism  in  a  family  never 


102  WESTERN   WILDS. 

outlasts  one  generation.  Old  Mormons  die,  young  ones  grow  up  in- 
fidels; so  in  due  time  the  system  must  expire  by  natural  limitation, 
especially  since  the  foreign  supply  has  ceased.  The  original  force  of 
fanaticism  wears  itself  out.  So  it  was  with  the  Irvingites,  Muggle- 
tonians,  etc.,  and  so  it  will  doubtless  be  with  Mormonism.  Such  a  de- 
lusion is  like  one  of  Utah's  mountain  streams,  which  plunges  from  a 
rocky  gulch  as  though  it  would  tear  up  all  the  country  below;  five 
miles  down  the  plain  it  has  become  a  gentle  rivulet  or  sluggish  slough, 
five  miles  further,  and  there  is  a  channel  of  dry  sand,  with  here  and 
there  a  brackish  pool.  Such  seems  to  be  the  course  of  all  religious,  de- 
lusions which  do  not  end  in  blood. 

But  the  death  of  Mormonism  will  not  end  Utah's  troubles.  Instead 
of  75,000  fanatics,  there  will  be  150,000  infidels — all  those  of  Mormon 
parentage,  having  no  philosophy  to  take  the  place  of  religion.  The  de- 
bris of  Mormonism  will  encumber  the  land  for  a  generation.  The 
original  Mormon  converts  were  from  the  most  hardy  and  virtuous 
peasantry  in  Europe ;  they  came  over  as  a  rule  in  middle  life,  and  Mor- 
monism could  not  entirely  spoil  them.  Their  children  will  suffer  all 
the  evil  results  of  polygamy  and  superstitious  folly,  with  none  of  the 
restraint  imposed  by  a  theocracy — all  the  evil  and  none  of  the  good. 
There  will  be  a  laxity  of  conduct  and  a  general  flabbiness  of  the  moral 
fiber,  which  will  not  be  cured  till  they  learn  by  dire  experience  that 
the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard.  The  Mormon  doctrine  that  "  it  is 
right  to  lie  for  the  good  of  the  Church,"  has  made  deceit  an  institution. 
It  can  scarcely  be  said  that  any  disgrace  attaches  to  perjury.  Jews  and 
Gentiles  who  live  long  among  this  people  too  often  become  addicted  to 
the  same  practices;  for,  say  they,  "if  we  do  n't,  they  get  the  advan- 
tage." There  is  in  Utah  more  downright  lying  to  the  square  mile  than 
in  any  other  region  on  this  continent;  and  the  religious  lying  is  the 
worst  of  all.  Thus  stands  the  Utah  situation  :  the  Jews  lie  for  gain, 
the  Gentiles  from  association,  and  the  Mormons  "  for  Christ's  sake." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    PACIFIC   SLOPE. 

A  YEAH  in  Utah  had  brought  renewed  health  and  strength;  but  the 
love  of  Western  travel  was  aroused.  I  would  see  Nevada  and  Cali- 
fornia; I  would  enjoy  the  sublime  scenery  of  the  Sierras,  and  breathe 
the  soft  airs  of  the  Pacific. 

The  Union  and  Central  Pacific  Railroads  had  joined  in  laying  the 
last  rail  at  Promontory,  on  the  10th  of  May,  1869,  and  thousands 
were  taking  this,  the  first,  opportunity  to  visit  the  Far  West  in  restful 
comfort.  Corinne,  my  starting  point,  had  grown  with  railroad  sud- 
denness to  a  "city"  of  1,500  people;  then  fallen  away  to  a  rather  dull 
village  of  500.  Along  the  track  west  of  it  had  sprung  up  five  tent- 
towns,  whose  equals  were  never  seen:  Promontory,  Deadfall,  Murder 
Gulch,  Last  Chance,  and  Painted  Post.  At  one  of  these,  in  its  brief 
existence  of  two  weeks,  there  were  five  homicides.  The  railroad  labor- 
ers, then  being  paid  off  by  hundreds,  were  the  natural  prey  of  the 
harpies  who  occupied  these  towns. 

Among  the  first  families  of  Deadfall  were  two  plainsmen,  known  as 

Arkansaw  and  Curly ,  the  former  a  "  fly  shot,"  the  latter  noted  for 

nothing  more  than  a  strange,  reckless  humor,  and  immense  capacity 
for  whisky.  Crazed  by  intemperance  and  the  loss  of  his  money  at 
gambling,  he  finally  took  on  a  huge  disgust  at  life,  and  one  day  said  to 
Arkansaw : 

"  Would  you  do  me  a  favor  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,  old  pard.     What  is  it?  " 

"  Just  to  shoot  me  through  the  head." 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it — do  any  little  thing  of  that  sort  for  an 
old  friend.  But  let's  step  down  to  the  sand-bar ;  it  wouldn't  do  to  bother 
the  folks." 

The  whole  population  turned  out  to  witness  the  shooting.  A  line  hav- 
ing been  formed,  Curly  kneeled  in  front  of  the  crowd,  and  Arkansaw 
took  position  and  fired,  the  ball  just  cutting  the  hair  from  the  crown 
of  Curly's  head. 

"D — n  you,  don't  mangle  me,"  was  his  comment;  "you  must  do 
better  than  that." 

(103) 


104  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Calling  for  whisky,  Arkansaw  swallowed  an  immense  draught ;  then 
raised  his  pistol  slowly  and  with  evident  deliberation.  There  was  a 
sharp  report,  and  Curly  fell  forward  on  his  face,  but  in  an  instant 
sprang  to  his  feet.  Arkansaw's  shot  had  cut  his  left  ear  clean  from 
his  head !  The  sharp  sting  and  flow  of  warm  blood  suddenly  changed 
his  mind,  and  bounding  into  the  ravine,  he  took  to  his  heels,  followed 
by  the  yells  and  laughter  of  the  crowd.  When  Arkansaw  told  me 
this  story  in  Corinne  (where  I  then  edited  a  paper),  he  laughed  till  the 
tears  stood  in  his  eyes;  he  considered  it  the  champion  joke  of  his 
career. 

Promontory  was  for  that  season  the  transfer  point  between  the  Union 
and  Central  Pacific ;  and  was  composed  about  equally  of  hotels, 
saloons  and  gambling  tents,  with  a  few  stores  and  shops.  There 
flourished  every  form  of  "cut-throat"  gambling  known:  three-card 
monte,  ten-die,  the  strap  game,  chuckaluck,  and  the  patent  lock  game. 
Occasionally  "  legitimate  "  gambling,  like  faro  or  keno,  was  established ; 
but  " cut-throat "  games  wrere  the  rule.  "Cappers"  boarded  the  cars 
at  Corinne  or  Kelton,  formed  acquaintance  with  their  victims  by  the 
time  the  train  reached  Promontory,  and  led  them  straight  into  the 
dens.  Strange  that  so  many  men  are  yet  deceived  when  these  tricks 
have  been  exposed  so  often;  strange  that  even  old  travelers  can  be 
caught  by  devices  explained  a  hundred  years  ago  in  the  "Rogue's 
Lexicon."  •  But  no  less  strange  than  true,  that  almost  every  day  these 
fellows  robbed  somebody.  No  less  a  personage  than  Don  Pico, 
formerly  Mexican  Governor  of  California,  left  $600  in  gold  with  the 
"Promontory  boys." 

What  I  particularly  admire  in  the  "sports "is  the  fine  morality  they 
display  in  always  having  the  loser  in  the  wrong.  The  latter  is  certain 
he  is  going  to  cheat  the  gambler,  otherwise  he  would  never  venture. 
He  thinks  the  gambler  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the  card  is  marked, 
or  the  lock  "  hampered,"  or  the  trap  changed,  as  the  case  may  be,  by 
the  "capper;"  and  goes  in  on  what  he  considers  a  "dead  sure  thing." 
Hence  there  should  be  no  legal  action  to  recover  money  lost  in  gam- 
bling. Between  the  gambler  and  the  loser  the  moralities  are  equal; 
both  are  rogues  at  heart,  only  the  former  is  the  more  expert. 

From  Promontory  to  the  foot  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  there  seemed 
scarcely  a  break  in  the  awful  barrenness  and  desolation.  The  air  was 
bracing  and  the  sky  beautifully  clear,  flecked  only  by  light  silvery 
clouds;  but  there  the  list  of  beauties  ends.  There  are  mountains 
red  and  yellow,  plains  dazzling  white,  dull  gray  or  dirty  brown,  and 
alternate  vistas  of  sand,  flint,  salt  and  alkali.  Here  and  there  are 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE. 


105 


large  tracts  of  bunch-grass,  but  that,  brown  as  broom-sedge,  does  not 
to  an  Eastern  eye  relieve  the  landscape.  Occasionally  the  mountain 
scenery  rises  to  the  sublime,  but  for  the  most  part  the  view  is  strangely 
wearisome.  On  some  people  these  scenes  produce  a  deep  and  peculiar 
melancholy.  It  is  as  though  all  hope  had  died  out  of  mother  earth, 
leaving  the  dead  embers  of  a  burnt-out  land  as  witnesses  to  the  awful 
despair  of  nature. 


HUMBOI.DT  PALISADES. 


For  hundreds  of  miles  after  leaving  the  fertile  valley  of  Bear 
River  there  is  scarcely  place  for  a  garden.  There  is  first  the  Promon- 
tory Range  and  then  Indian  Creek  Desert;  then  Red  Dome  and  Red 
Desert;  then  the  Goose  Creek  Range  and  the  Goose  Creek  Desert; 
then  the  Humboldt  Range  and  the  Humbolt  Desert,  and  finally  a  few 
detached  buttes  and  sun-scorched  sand-hills  through  which  we  pass  to 
the  Great  Nevada  Desert,  last,  longest  and  worst  of  all.  Into  it  flow 
Carson,  Truckee,  Reese,  and  Humboldt  rivers  and  a  hundred  smaller 
streams;  out  of  it  comes  nothing.  Salt  lakes,  alkaline  "sinks"  and 
mud  flats  alone  relieve  the  dreary  monotony ;  the  phenomena  arc  hot 
winds,  blinding  dust,  the  mirage,  and  the  shadow  of  death.  The  only 
view  of  any  grandeur  is  at  Humboldt  Canon,  now  better  known  as  the 
Palisades,  a  wild  gorge  through  which  the  river  has  forced  its  way  in 
some  far  distant  geologic  age,  and  where  the  railroad  track  lies  along 
the  base  of  a  perpendicular  rock  many  hundred  feet  in  height.  Far 


106  WESTERN  WILDS. 

below  the  excavated  track  the  waters  of  the  Humboldt  foam  over  the 
uneven  bottom  of  a  narrow  channel,  obstructed  in  many  places  by  the 
immense  rocks,  which  have  fallen  from  the  cliff.  The  lack  of  colors 
prevents  that  singular  variety  which  is  the  charm  of  Echo  and  Weber 
Canons,  but  the  cold,  unchanging  gray  imparts  a  wild  and  gloomy 
beauty  instead.  On  the  south  side  of  the  canon  the  Devil's  Peak  rises 
fifteen  hundred  feet  directly  above  the  river. 

The  needs  of  miners  and  stock-ranchers  in  the  adjacent  mountains 
have  built  up  a  few  trading  towns  along  this  route;  and  taking  the 
road  by  sections,  I  spent  some  days  at  each.  First,  over  Sunday,  at 
Toano,  on  Terrace  Mountain,  where  the  Sabbath  was  kept  as  regularly 
as  in  New  England — the  men  went  hunting  or  rested  at  the  gambling 
hall ;  the  girls  had  -a  dance  or  got  drunk.  Next  at  the  lively  and 
furiously  speculative  town  of  Elko,  outfitting  point  for  the  rich  White 
Pine  region,  and  consequently  a  place  of  importance — while  the  mines 
held  out.  Then  at  Argenta,  Winnemucca  and  Reno,  gray  dots  upon 
a  white  desert,  and  but  slight  relief  to  the  landscape.  Every-where 
west  of  Utah  we  find  California  work  and  ideas,  pay  in  coin,  and  en- 
counter the  Chinese  with  their  chip  hats  and  linen  blouses,  rice  feed, 
cheap  labor,  and  universal  "  no  sahvey  "  to  any  question  they  don't 
ward  to  understand.  They  then  worked  for  thirty-one  dollars  per 
month,  boarding  themselves,  which  amounted  to  an  embargo  on  white 
labor  wherever  they  came  in  competition. 

The  Humboldt,  which  is  a  good  sized  stream  as  long  as  it  keeps 
within  the  cool  shadow  of  the  mountains,  decreases  with  every  mile  as 
soon  as  it  enters  the  desert ;  at  last  we  see  it  no  more,  for  what  little 
is  left  has  turned  southward,  and  is  lost  in  the  "sink."  The  worst 
desert  we  cross  in  the  night,  and  wake  at  daylight  to  glad  relief,  for 
we  are  climbing  the  Sierras,  among  the  grand  pines  and  along  the 
crystal  waters  of  the  foaming  Truckee.  To  one  just  from  the  treeless 
plains,  no  sight  is  so  grateful  as  a  dense  forest,  and  like  a  tourist  from 
the  State  of  Maine,  who  lately  passed  that  way,  I  felt  to  exclaim : 
"  Thank  the  Lord,  I  smell  pitch  once  more ! " 

From  this  region  goes  most  of  the  lumber  used  along  the  road,  as 
far  as  Salt  Lake  City;  but  over  all  that  interior  there  is  an  ever- 
increasing  scarcity  of  good  timber.  Woods  are  found  only  upon  the 
mountains ;  the  inner  plains  of  the  Great  Basin  are  as  bare  of  trees  as 
if  blasted  by  the  breath  of  a  volcano.  At  Verdi  Station,  5,000  feet 
above  sea-level,  we  pass  the  State  line  and  enter  California.  Crossing 
the  Truckee,  we  take  an  additional  locomotive  and  enter  upon  the 
steepest  ascent  of  the  Sierras.  The  first  large  curve  brings  us  above 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE. 


107 


Donner  Lake,  so  named  in  memory  of  those  unfortunate  emigrants 
from  Quincy,  Illinois,  who  here  starved  and  froze  and  suffered  away 
the  long  cold  winter  of  1846.  Next  we  look  down  upon  Lake  Bigler, 
and  another  hour  brings  us  to  Summit  Station,  highest  point  on  the 
Central  Pacific,  7,042  feet  above  sea-level,  1,669  miles  from  Omaha, 
and  105  from 
Sacramento. 
We  enter  now 
upon  the  west- 
ern slope,  with 
its  steep  de- 
scent ;  and  with 
the  breaks  "  set 
up"  and  very 
little  steam,  we 
still  rush  along 
at  a  f e a r f u 1 
rate,  at  one 
place  running 
twenty-five 
miles  in  thirty 
minutes,  with- 
out an  ounce 
of  steam.  For- 
ty  miles  of 

snow-sheds  have  been  erected  along  this  part  of  the  line  at  a  cost  of 
a  million  and  a  half  dollars;  to  the  great  assurance  of  winter  pas- 
sage, but  an  equal  hinderance  to  enjoyment  of  the  view. 

Running  out  upon  a  more  gentle  grade,  we  pass  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, Dutch  Flat,  Little  York,  You  Bet,  and  Red  Dog,  all  old  min- 
ing towns,  the  largest  still  containing  three  thousand  inhabitants. 
All  along  the  road  we  see  mile  after  mile  of  flumes  running  in 
every  direction  down  the  ridges,  and  carrying  large  streams  to  be 
used  in  hydraulic  mining  below;  and  in  places  pass  hundreds  of 
acres  of  "  old  dirt,"  which  has  been  washed  out  and  abandoned. 
All  are  alert  for  the  view  of  Cape  Horn,  the  wonder  of  this  route ; 
but  the  sight  is  not  good  for  nervous  people.  An  awful  chasm,  at 
first  apparently  right  before  us,  and  then  but  a  little  to  the  left, 
opens  directly  across  the  range ;  and,  standing  on  the  steps  of  the 
car,  it  seems  as  if  the  train  were  rushing  headlong  into  it.  The 
first  view  allows  the  sight  to  pierce  a  thousand  feet,  almost  straight 


SEVEN    THOUSAND  FEET  ABOVE  THE  SEA. 


108 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


downward  to  the  green  bottom,  where  the  trees  shrink  to  mere 
shrubs,  and  the  Chinamen  working  at  the  lumber  seem  like  pig- 
mies; a  little  further  down  the  gorge  the  wagon  bridge — hundreds 
of  feet  above  the  bottom — appears  like  a  faint  white  band,  and  still 
further  the  sight  is  lost  in  a  blue  mist.  The  railroad  track  is  ex- 


CAPE  HORN. 


cavated  along  the  sides  and  around  the  head  of  this  gorge,  wrhere, 
in  aboriginal  days,  the  Indians  had  not  even  a  foot-path,  as  the 
first  descent  from  the  head  of  the  chasm  is  six  hundred  feet,  nearly 
perpendicular.  When  the  road-bed  was  constructed,  the  men  who 
made  the  first  excavation  were  secured  by  ropes  let  down  from  a 
higher  point. 

The  climate  changes  with  every  hour's  descent.  The  red  earth, 
resinous  pines,  and  yellow  grass  show  that  we  are  on  the  Pacific 
Coast ;  but  the  view  is  wonderfully  relieved  by  the  pines,  and  the 
red  branches  and  pale  green  leaves  of  the  manzanita.  Settlements 
thicken ;  gardens,  fields,  and  orchards  appear.  Down  at  last  on  the 
California  side  of  the  Sierras,  we  emerge  from  the  foot-hills  upon 
a  rather  level  plain  dotted  with  live  oaks,  with  occasionally  a  cul- 
tivated field.  Crossing  this  plain  and  the  American  River,  we  leave 
the  cars  and  walk  amid  the  neat  squares  and  well-watered  grass 
plats  of  the  State  capital. 

A  week  in  Sacramento  taught  me  one  important  fact:   that  Call- 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE.  109 

fornia  malaria  is  quite  as  bad  in  its  way  as  AVabash  malaria,  for  I 
had  the  unmistakable  old-fashioned  ague.  The  returning  miners 
who  brought  East  such  wonderful  accounts  of  the  healthfulness  of 
California,  spent  most  of  their  time  there  in  the  hills  or  on  the 
higher  plateaus;  for  in  the  low  grounds  along  the  larger  streams 
there  is  miasma  enough.  For  many  miles  along  their  lower  course, 
the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaqum  (which  the  absurd  natives  pro- 
nounce Wahkeen)  are  bordered  by  vast  marshes  and  tule  lands,  which 
yield  slowly  to  flood  plains,  all  overflowed  in  the  rainy  season.  The 
days  are  hot,  the  nights  are  cool,  the  winter  and  spring  very  wet, 
the  summer  very  dry — why  should  we  not  find  malaria,  if  nature's 
laws  are  uniform?  But  a  little  further  away  from  the  streams,  the 
dry  air  of  California,  slightly  tempered  by  ocean  winds,  gives  assur- 
ance of  health. 

I  next  sought  the  rural  districts,  crossing  the  Sacramento  into 
Yolo  County,  and  following  the  raised  track  of  the  California  Cen- 
tral Railroad  as  my  best  passage  through  the  tide  lands.  Tule  is 
the  Spanish  or  Indian  name  of  a  coarse  reed  which  covers  the 
entire  tract,  green  during  winter  and  spring,  but  now  dry  as  tin- 
der, and  furnishing  fuel  for  extended  fires.  Far  down  among  the 
reeds,  which  often  exceeded  ten  feet  in  height,  I  saw  cattle  hunting 
for  scattered  clumps  of  grass,  which  still  had  a  little  shade  of  green 
in  the  moisture  preserved  by  the  tides.  Beyond  this  tract,  the  road 
emerges  into  a  vast  plain,  overflowed  for  many  miles  out  in  winter, 
but  now  dry  and  dusty,  and  covered  with  coarse  grass  of  a  yellow- 
ish brown  color,  which  looks,  to  the  Eastern  eye,  as  if  every  par- 
ticle of  nutriment  were  burnt  out  of  it. 

At  Davisville,  fifteen  miles  from  Sacramento,  I  remained  a  few 
days  to  investigate  the  fruit  farms  and  silk  culture.  A  large  field 
had  been  planted  in  mulberry  trees ;  a  factory  large  enough  to  em- 
ploy a  hundred  hands  was  being  erected,  and  the  experiment  is  now 
hi  active  and  favorable  operation.  Sericulture  will  some  day  con- 
stitute one  of  the  leading  interests  of  California,  as  capable  men 
are  entering  upon  it  at  several  places,  and  there  can  scarcely  be 
a  doubt  that  the  climate  and  soil  are  well  adapted  thereto.  The 
want  of  cheap  labor  has  been  the  great  hinderance ;  and  this  is 
supplied  by  the  Chinese,  who  will  probably  become  silk  manufac- 
turers here  as  at  home.  Vineyards  extended  in  all  directions.  The 
picking  season  was  over,  but  there  were  still  grapes  enough  on  the 
vines  to  furnish  a  plentiful  repast.  Many  thousand  bunches  had 
dried  upon  the  stem,  and  tasted  more  like  raisins  than  grapes,  un- 


110  WESTERN   WILDS. 

less  of  the  acid  Sonoma  variety ;  these  had  a  strong  fiery  taste. 
Every  known  species,  from  the  extreme  north  to  the  tropics,  seems 
to  find  here  a  second  native  country,  as  it  were,  where  it  attains  to 
great  size  and  fineness  of  flavor. 

Every  district  in  California  produces  its  own  peculiar  wine,  but 
all  the  lighter  kinds  go  by  the  general  name  of  "  Sonoma  AVhite," 
the  manufacture  having  begun  at  Sonoma.  It  has  been  claimed 
that  the  use  of  light  wines  lessens  the  demand  for  strong  liquors. 
It  certainly  has  not  produced  that  effect  in  California.  While  the 
Eastern  tourist  is  eager  for  his  draught  of  ice-cooled  Sonoma,  the 
old  Californian  invariably  calls  for  whisky.  Perhaps  it  is  because 
they  used  whisky  so  long  before  wine  became  plenty.  On  every 
road  from  the  larger  towns  is  a  series  of  hotels,  with  bar  attach- 
ment, usually  known  as  the  One-mile  House,  the  Two-mile  House, 
etc.;  and  a  man's  capacity  (in  other  words  the  length  of  time  he 
has  been  in  California)  is  usually  guaged  by  the  number  he  can 
patronize  on  his  way  to  and  from  town.  The  "pilgrim"  often  falls 
before  he  reaches  town.  The  man  who  has  been  here  a  few  years 
gets  in  with  his  team,  disposes  of  his  load,  and  usually  has  to  spend 
the  night  at  the  One-  or  Two-mile  House.  But  the  old  Californian 
drinks  at  every  place  on  his  way  in,  transacts  business  with  a  clear 
head,  reverses  the  drinking  process  at  every  place  going  out,  even 
to  the  Ten-mile  House,  and  gets  home  in  good  condition  to  do  his 
evening's  work  and  enjoy  himself  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 

Besides  figs  and  grapes  there  is  very  little  fruit  grown  in  the 
main  valley;  but  in  all  the  little  mountain  vales,  both  in  the  Coast 
Range  and  Sierras,  is  produced  almost  every  fruit  of  the  temperate 
and  tropical  climes.  Apples  are  not  so  finely  flavored  as  in  the 
East,  and  pears  are  large  and  coarse ;  but  peaches  are  better,  and 
plums,  damsons,  and  nectarines  perfectly  delicious.  It  is  in  grapes, 
however,  that  California  particularly  excels. 

From  Davisville  I  traveled  up  Putah  Creek  all  day  through  a 
rich  level  country,  covered  now  with  the  rich  haze  of  autumn,  the 
air  seeming  full  of  red  dust  and  smoke ;  passed  occasionally  clumps 
of  trees  and  very  inferior  looking  farm-houses,  seldom  painted  or 
well-finished ;  traversed  mile  after  mile  of  continuous  wheat  fields, 
with  stubble  still  bright  though  the  crop  was  harvested  four  months 
ago,  and  found  the  same  dry,  dusty,  grassless  look  over  the  whole 
landscape.  The  entire  valley  is  devoted  to  the  growth  of  wheat 
and  barley,  with  the  exception  of  occasional  stock-ranches  which 
also  appear  devoid  of  life  at  this  season,  with  the  same  old  look, 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE.  Ill 

and  half-Southern,  half-Spanish  air  of  shiftlessness.  The  road  runs 
unfenced  through  a  constant  succession  of  wheat  fields,  whence  the 
grain  had  been  cut  late  in  May ;  and  the  prevailing  impression  was 
of  drought.  There  were  fields  parched  and  cracked  open,  dust  in 
great  heaps  among  the  dried  vegetation,  grass  withered  and  burnt, 
while  the  largest  creeks  were  entirely  dried  up  or  shrunk  to  mere 
rivulets,  pursuing  their  sluggish  and  doubtful  course  away  down  at 
the  bottom  of  deep  gulches,  which  in  winter  and  spring  are  filled 
by  immense  torrents.  At  night  the  horizon  was  lighted  up  by  fires 
raging  in  the  stubble  on  the  high  lands,  or  among  the  tules  lower 
down,  and  by  day  the  sun  was  obscured,  and  distant  objects  hidden 
by  the  smoke  or  light  haze,  which  corresponds  to  our  eastern  Indian 
summer,  and  is  here  the  immediate  precursor  of  the  first  rain. 

Having  since  visited  California  at  other  seasons,  I  find  it  to  pos- 
ssess  an  almost  aggravating  regularity  of  climate.  To  begin  with 
the  year,  January  is  the  month  when  the  heaviest  rains  are  passed, 
and  the  ground  is  settling  for  the  spring  growth.  Soon  this  valley 
is  beautiful  indeed.  Strawberries  and  other  early  fruits  are  early 
in  market,  the  plains  are  of  a  rich  green,  plowing  is  pushed  forward 
with  vigor,  wheat  is  sown,  and  springs  quickly  into  growing  life. 
In  March  the  rainy  season  appears  to  come  again,  though,  generally, 
the  "later  rain''  is  light.  Thence  the  showers  grow  slowly  less  and 
less  frequent  till  some  time  in  May.  The  wheat  is  about  full  grown, 
early  potatoes  begin  to  appear,  and  slight  signs  of  drought  are  mani- 
fest. The  grass  ,gets  ripe,  the  Spanish  oats  (wild)  begin  to  turn 
yellow,  and  early  in  June  the  wheat  is  harvested. 

It  lies  or  stands  in  shocks  on  the  ground,  to  be  threshed  out  at 
will;  for  no  rain  need  now  be  apprehended.  The  surface  begins  to 
show  signs  of  extreme  drought;  by  the  middle  of  July  the  freshets 
are  all  past  and  the  marshes  dried  up ;  the  ground  cracks  open  in 
long  fissures,  into  which  the  grass  seeds  fall  and  are  preserved  to 
another  growing  season.  As  summer  advances  all  the  minor  vege- 
tation loses  its  green ;  the  grass,  dead  ripe,  stands  cured  to  a  bright 
yellow,  varied  in  places  by  a  dirty  brown ;  creation  assumes  a  gray 
and  dusty  color,  and  only  the  purple  fig  leaves  and  faint  green  of 
of  those  trees  which  have  a  deeper  root  relieve  the  general  aspect 
of  barrenness.  On  the  slopes  of  the  Sierras,  the  red  dust  lies  six 
inches  in  depth,  and  the  prospect  is  brightened  only  by  occasional 
patches  of  verdure  along  the  mountain  streams,  and  the  pale-green 
oval  leaves  of  the  manzanita. 

Still  the  heavens   remain   clear.      Then  one  may  see  through  the 


112 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


valley  of  the  Sacramento  great  stacks  of  wheat  in  sacks,  standing 
in  the  open  fields  till  a  convenient  time  arrives  for  hauling  it  away, 
and  threshing-machines  running  in  the  open  air  with  no  fear  of  rain. 
The  stubble  of  the  old  fields  retains  its  brightness,  and  the  long  dry 
autumn  of  California  is  fairly  inaugurated.  The  marshes  become 


CALIFORNIA    AGRICULTURAL    REPORT. 


beds  of  dust,  which  is  blown  up  in  stifling  clouds ;  the  mirage  ap- 
pears upon  the  plain  in  deceptive  floods  of  what  the  Mexicans  call 
"lying  waters;"  the  tules  become  dry  as  tinder,  and  at  night  the  Sac- 
ramento is  lighted  for  miles  by  the  fires  that  rage  over  the  same 
area  where,  eight  months  before,  a  steamboat  could  ply  at  ease.  The 
yellow  grass  is  eaten  to  the  ground,  and  the  herds  are  driven  far 
up  the  mountains;  the  dust,  which  has  become  insufferable  in  the 
roads,  seems  to  blow  away  and  on  to  the  fields ;  the  ]  >ads  are  often 
bare  and  dry,  hardened  like  sunburnt  brick,  and  the  depressions 
in  the  fields  knee-deep  in  dust.  The  sky  becomes  obscured ;  the 
sun  rises  red  and  fiery,  and  disappears  about  4  P.  M.,  in  a  bank  of 
haze.  People  prepare  for  winter  by  nailing  a  board  here  and  there 
on  an  apology  for  a  barn,  and  hauling  away  any  wheat  that  remains 
in  the  field.  After  a  few  preliminary  showers,  the  "early  rain" 
comes  in  force;  torrents  descend  upon  beds  of  dust,  and  the  plain 
becomes  a  sea  of  thin  mud.  Then  all  the  mountain  gulches  are 
swollen  with  muddy  red  water;  the  Sacramento  spreads  for  miles 
over  the  tule  lands,  and  steamers  again  ply  over  what  was  a  baked 
plain  three  months  before.  In  a  few  weeks  the  worst  is  passed,  and 
the  growing  season  begins  again.  Moral:  To  enjoy  California,  come 
in  the  first  half  of  the  year.  From  June  till  November  it  is  too 
dry  for  comfort ;  from  that  till  the  middle  of  January  too  muddy. 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE.  113 

I  have  only  described  the  climate  of  the  interior — that  series  of 
broad  plains  bordering  the  San  Joaquin  and  Sacramento,  and  ex- 
tending to  the  foot-hills  of  the  Coast  Range  on  the  west  and  the 
Sierras  on  the  east,  which  includes  three-fourths  of  agricultural 
California.  Taken  as  a  whole,  however,  the  State  has  three  grand 
divisions  of  climate.  First  is  the  coast  climate;  in  that  narrow 
strip  between  the  Coast  Range  and  the  ocean,  the  fields  are  watered 
nightly  by  the  ocean  fogs,  and  are  green  from  January  to  December. 
Hence  their  leading  industry — expressed  in  the  local  phrase — "  the 
cow  counties."  Next  is  the  interior  climate,  above  described.  The 
region  bordering  the  bay  of  San  Francisco  enjoys  a  mixture  of  two 
climates.  The  third  might  be  called  the  mountain-valley  climate. 
From  the  Sierras  some  forty  little  valleys  open  westward;  down 
each  one  flows  a  bright  stream,  affluent  of  the  San  Joaquin  or  Sac- 
ramento, and  each  has  a  different  climate,  from  Sonora,  where  figs 
ripen,  and  strawberries  grow  in  February,  to  Yreka,  where  snow 
sometimes  lies  for  three  months.  Our  artist  has  faithfully  depicted 
the  average  Californian's  description  of  the  products  of  his  State.  The 
reader  may  discount  the  picture  opposite  by  a  very  large  per  cent. 

Next  I  went  to  San  Francisco,  by  way  of  Vallejo,  taking  steamer 
thence  to  the  city.  The  rainy  season  had  set  in,  and  I  awoke  next 
morning  to  a  view,  from  my  room  far  up  the  hill,  of  a  city  half  hidden 
in  mist,  from  which  spires  and  cupolas  projected  like  sharp  rocks  above 
a  swelling  flood.  Three  days  of  rain,  and  then  the  city  put  on  its 
"winter"  look.  The  citizens  boast  of  their  winters  and  apologize  for 
their  summers;  and  well  they  may.  August  is  the  coldest  (to  the 
feelings)  and  September  the  warmest  month  in  the  year !  One  can  feel 
no  difference  in  temperature  between  January  and  June ;  furs  are 
worn  from  July  1st  till  late  in  August,  then  left  off  till  near  Christ- 
mas again.  The  latter  part  of  the  winter  is  singularly  inild  and  equa- 
ble— about  as  May  in  the  latitude  of  Philadelphia.  The  genesis  of 
these  strange  contradictions  is  in  the  coast  winds.  In  July  and 
August  they  set  hard  and  full  upon  the  coast,  bringing  with  them  a 
dense  fog  that  lowers  the  temperature  till  an  overcoat  is  a  necessity. 
In  September  comes  a  calm,  while  there  is  still  heat  enough  in  the 
summer  sun  to  warm  the  air ;  later  comes  the  softer  wind  from  the 
south-west.  But  this  south-west  wind  also  drives  in  the  rain  clouds 
upon  the  interior  plains;  so  while  San  Francisco  has  her  nicest 
weather,  the  interior  has  its  rainy  season.  The  clouds  thus  driven 
north  from  the  South  Pacific  drop  but  scant  moisture  on  Southern 

California ;  the  rain- fall  at  Fort  Yuma  rarely  exceeds  two  inches  per 

8 


114  WESTERN  WILDS. 

year.  Northward  they  are  caught  by  the  higher  mountains,  and  the 
rain-fall  increases;  till  at  last,  entangled  amid  the  sub-ranges  of  Or- 
egon, they  shower  almost  constantly  from  October  till  May. 

I  like  San  Francisco  for  its  variety.  If  one  don't  enjoy  staid 
American  society,  there  are  French,  Italian,  and  Spanish  quarters, 
and  not  far  off  Kanakas,  and  ever-present  Chinese.  Society  is  in  a 
transition  state.  This  is  a  land  of  the  beggar  and  the  prince.  The 
oppressive  land  monopoly  which  was  fixed  upon  California  by  Mex- 
ican policy,  the  wonderful  fluctuations  in  mining  property,  and  the 
daring  speculations  of  its  business  men,  have  given  over  the  wealth  to 
a  few  hands.  There  seems  to  be  no  well  defined  middle  class.  Public 
taste  inclines  to  the  showy ;  for  wealth  and  fashion  naturally  outran 
culture  in  a  community  which,  in  twenty  years,  rose  like  another 
Venice,  from  the  salt  marsh  and  sand-hill  to  unmeasured  opulence. 

The  city  is  strangely  picturesque  and  interesting.  On  the  west  side 
of  the  bay  and  facing  the  east,  the  business  blocks  cover  the  flat 
along  the  water  front  and  extend  a  little  way  up  the  slope ;  thence  the 
residences  and  public  buildings  continue  to  rise  in  terraces,  to  the  very 
summit  of  the  ridge — a  spur  of  Monte  Diablo.  "With  this  slope  and 
its  sandy  soil,  it  is  of  necessity  clean  and  Tree  from  malaria.  The 
ocean  fogs  are  bracing  to  some  constitutions,  death  to  others.  No 
man  can  reason  beforehand  as  to  how  they  will  affect  him  ;  they  refuse 
to  follow  a  priori  rules.  The  first  San  Francisco  was  built  almost 
entirely  of  wood,  and  vanished  one  day  in  a  sweeping  fire.  The 
second  was  built  in  a  rather  fragile  manner  with  more  solid  materials; 
the  frequent  fires  finally  cured  the  first  fault,  and  the  earthquakes  fright- 
ened them  out  of  the  second.  In  one  year  the  city  had  eleven  "  shakes." 

The  Chinese,  seen  in  every  part  of  California,  are  never  out  of  sight 
in  the  city,  of  which  they  constitute  one-sixth  of  the  population.  Some 
twenty  squares  along  Dupont  Street  are  given  up  to  them,  the  locality 
appropriately  known  as  "  Barbary  Coast."  We  found  it  settled  so 
thickly  that  it  seems  scarcely  possible  human  beings  could  exist  so,  and 
could  scarcely  repress  a  feeling  of  fear  as  we  plunged  into  the  dark 
alleys  lined  by  little  cubby-holes,  and  alive  with  yellow  women.  But 
our  guide  assures  us  we  are  always  safe  here;  "  though,"  he  adds,  "  I 
can't  give  you  any  such  promise  two  squares  from  here,  among  the 
whites."  This  suggests  the  "  hoodlum,"  or  young  rough,  which  San 
Francisco  has  in  fearful  abundance. 

Of  course  my  resident  friends  took  me  to  the  Chinese  Theater, 
where  we  witnessed  part  of  a  play  representing  some  marvelous  inci- 
dents in  the  career  of  Rip  Sah,  or  some  other  old  humbug,  whose 


THE  PACIFIC  SLOPE. 


115 


name  and  monarchy  were  great  in  China  about  sixty  thousand  years 
since.  I  may  not  have  the  date  quite  correct,  as  Celestial  history  con- 
sists of  the  annals  of  a  series  of  dynasties,  evolving  civilization  and 
philosophy  through  successive  eras  of  such  magnitude  that  a  variation 


BARBAKY  COAST,"  SAN   FRANCISCO. 

of  twenty  thousand  years,  more  or  less,  is  regarded  as  a  trifling  discrep- 
ancy. The  musicians  sit  upon  the  stage  directly  behind  the  actors, 
who  enter  and  retire  always  by  the  wings;  and  the  dying  groans  of 
Rip  Sah,  who  expires  in  a  fit  just  after  having  beheaded  fifty  thousand 
prisoners,  are  drowned  by  the  monotonous  droning  of  something  like  a 
tin  drum  and  two  three-stringed  instruments,  about  as  musical  as  a  hog 
with  his  nose  under  a  gate,  but  not  half  as  expressive. 


116  WESTERN  WILDS. 

The  California  Chinese  (and  I  include  in  this  class  all  in  the  Far 
West,)  seem  to  me  to  have  the  coldest,  most  gloomy  and  repellant 
religion,  the  most  chilling  philosophy,  of  any  race  in  the  world. 
There  is  but  one  redeeming  feature  in  the  case ;  they  are  all  in  a 
skeptical  state,  and  do  not  more  than  half  believe  their  own  faith.  I 
once  witnessed  in  Sacramento  their  great "  devil-drive,"  which  includes 
nearly  all  the  ceremonies  of  their  religion.  At  least  four  thousand 
Chinese  were  present ;  and  with  the  blowing  of  horns,  beating  gongs, 
talking  and  yelling,  by  Mongolian  courtesy  called  singing,  and  open- 
air  theaters  and  bands,  they  made  the  evening  lively.  Nearly  all  the 
Chinese  in  America  are  orthodox  Buddhists,  who  reason  the  matter 
thus:  "If  God  good,  why  pray?  Tend  to  the  devil."  Hence  this 
ceremony  of  driving  out  the  latter. 

We  found  the  devil  "out  in  the  cold" — a  hideous  black  figure, 
easily  recognized  as  the  evil  one,  set  upon  a  pedestal  just  outside  the 
door.  Within  were  two  enormous  "Joshes,"  ten  feet  high,  one  in 
each  corner,  and  over  them  a  shelf  filled  with  little  household  gods, 
two  feet  or  so  in  length ;  while  behind  the  altar  the  Buddhist  priests 
and  attendant  boys  were  going  through  a  ceremony  very  similar  to 
High  Mass.  The  Buddhists,  like  the  Mormons,  believe  in  a  regular 
gradation  of  gods,  rising  one  above  another  to  the  great  head  god, 
whom  the  Mormons  call  Eloheim,  and  the  Chinese  "  Top-side  Josh." 

Outside,  booths  with  open  front  were  erected,  in  which  various  plays 
were  being  performed  in  choice  Tartar,  the  view  free  to  the  crowd. 
This  continued  till  midnight,  when  a  general  chorus  of  priests  and 
bands  announced  the  close  of  the  festival  (?)  and  a  torch  was  applied 
to  the  devil.  The  figure,  which  proved  to  be  full  of  fire-crackers, 
"went  off"  in  brilliant  style  till  nothing  was  left  apparently  but  the 
hideous  head  and  back-bone;  these  then  shot  upward  like  a  huge 
Roman  candle,  leaving  a  trail  of  blue  fire,  and  exploded  high  in  the 
air  with  a  loud  report,  followed  by  a  shower  of  sparks  and  insufferable 
stench.  And  that  was  supposed  to  drive  the  devil  away  fora  year! 
Turning  away  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  the  devil  was  gone  at  last, 
I  encountered  Ah  Ching,  our  Mongolian  laundryman,  at  the  Pacific 
Hotel,  who  spoke  somer  English,  and  had  an  intellect  that  was  "  not  to 
sneezed  at,"  of  whom  I  sought  information,  and  received  it  thus: 

"Hallo,  John,  do  you  believe  in  him?" 

"  Oh,  velley,  Melica  man,  me  believe  him." 

"All  Chinamen  believe  in  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  China  like  Melica  man.  Some  believe  him,  sahvey ;  some 
tink  him  all  gosh  damn."  And  I  felt  that  I  was  answered. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 

TWO    YEARS    OF    CHANGE. 

FROM  the  Golden  Gate  I  returned  to  Utah  and  trouble.  I  had  often 
dealt  theoretically  with  the  Mormon  courts.  I  was  now  to  have  prac- 
tical experience  of  their  beautiful  uncertainty. 

Corinne,  where  I  had  my  legal  residence,  an  exclusively  Gentile 
town,  had  sprung  up  suddenly  in  the  center  of  an  old  Mormon  county. 
The  county  judge  was  one  Samuel  Smith,  husband  of  six  wives,  two  of 
whom  were  his  own  brother's  daughters,  sealed  to  him  by  Brigham 
Young,  with  full  knowledge  of  that  relationship.  As  editor  of  the 
only  Gentile  paper  in  Utah,  I  had  occasionally  commented  on  this 
fact  with  considerable  severity ;  nevertheless,  when  summoned  to  his 
court  as  party  to  a  civil  suit,  I  attended  with  the  innate  American  con- 
fidence that  every  body  is  safe  in  the  shadow  of  a  court-house. 

The  trial  was  over,  and  I  was  just  stepping  oif  the  court-house  por- 
tico, when  I  received  a  thundering  whack  in  the  back  of  the  head 
which  sent  me  face  forward  upon  the  gravel.  There  was  a  rush,  a 
sound  of  curses,  and  I  felt,  first  a  shower  of  blows  upon  the  head  and 
shoulders,  and  then  one  or  more  persons  walking  over  me  with  heavy 
boots.  I  distinctly  heard  bones  snap  somewhere;  then  there  was  a 
void,  and  next  my  friends  were  picking  me  up  and  taking  stock  gen- 
erally of  my  condition.  My  left  collar-bone  was  broken  in  two  places, 
one  of  my  ribs  loosened,  my  temple  badly  cut,  and  about  two  inches 
of  my  scalp  torn  off,  besides  being  badly  hurt  myself.  We  were  but 
nine  Gentiles  in  a  Mormon  town  of  twelve  hundred  people,  so  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  but  haul  me  over  to  Corinne,  where  my  wounds 
were  dressed.  In  one  week  I  was  walking  about  town  in  pretty  good 
condition,  and  just  a  month  from  the  attack  was  discharged  cured,  and 
able  to  travel. 

Wonderful  as  this  recovery  seems,  it  is  nothing  to  what  I  have 
known  to  occur  in  the  pure  air  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  A  black- 
smith living  in  Montana,  located  on  the  stage-road  a  hundred  miles 
from  the  nearest  surgeon,  had  his  knee  shattered  by  a  pistol-shot.  He 
sharpened  two  bowie-knives,  strapped  the  leg  over  a  bench,  and  am- 
putated it  half  way  between  the  knee  and  hip-joint,  taking  up  the 

(117) 


118 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


arteries  with  his  own  hands,  and  searing  them  with  irons  heated  by 
himself  in  the  forge.  His  wound  healed  by  what  physicians  call  "  the 
first  intention,"  and  he  still  lives,  to  walk  pretty  well  upon  a  wooden 
leg,  and  be  known  throughout  the  mountains  as  "  Nervy  Bill." 

I  saw  a  man  in  Stockton,  California,  who  had  been   "bodaciously 
chawed  up,"  to  use  his   own   language,  by  a   grizzly   bear.     In  the 


"  BODACIOUSLY  CHAWED  UP." 


death-hug  he  had  an  arm  and  leg  broken,  and  all  the  flesh  torn  from 
his  forehead  and  crown,  after  which  he  lay  two  days  and  nights  in  the 
cafion  before  being  found.  Yet  he  lived,  in  good  health,  and  not  badly 
disfigured.  Chief-Justice  Brookings,  late  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 


TWO  YEARS  OF  CHANGE.  119 

Dakota,  broke  through  the  ice  in  the  Big  Sioux  River,  and  was  held 
fast  for  twenty-four  hours,  his  legs  crushed  by  the  ice  and  chilled  by 
the  cold  water.  Both  limbs  were  amputated ;  but  he  enjoys  good 
health,  walks  upon  corks,  and  to  use  the  language  of  an  admiring  con- 
stituent "  is  able  to  stump  'round  an'  do  a  heap  o'  devilment."  It's 
the  physical  condition  at  the  time  that  does  it.  Debauchees  have  died 
from  the  scratch  of  a  rusty  nail ;  mountaineers  have  survived  a  dozen 
gaping  wounds,  any  one  of  which,  by  sound  medical  reasoning,  should 
have  killed  them. 

My  principal  assailant  proved  to  be  the  son  of  Judge  Smith.  He 
was  arrested  by  the  Mormon  authorities  and  fined  five  dollars.  It  is 
well  known  in  Utah  that,  in  such  cases,  the  fine  is  seldom  paid.  Two 
years  afterwards,  W.  R.  Keithley,  a  lawyer  in  Salt  Lake  City,  struck 
a  Mormon  editor  two  blows  with  a  light  cane,  doing  no  particular 
damage.  He  was  taken  before  the  Mormon  justice,  fined  a  hundred 
dollars,  and  put  under  bonds  of  four  hundred  to  keep  the  peace. 
That  was  about  the  percentage  of  difference  in  those  days  between 
justice  to  the  Saint  and  the  Gentile.  It  is  different  now — thanks  to 
Ulysses  Grant  and  Judge  McKean.  But  as  for  me,  I  can  safely  swear 
that  I  have  a  little  more  than  balanced  the  account  with  the  Mor- 
mons. I  can  lay  my  hand  on  my  heart  and  say  that  they  do  n't  owe 
me  a  cent. 

After  a  winter  visit  to  the  East,  I  returned  to  Utah  early  in  1870, 
eager  to  be  fighting  the  old  battles  again.  There  had  been  great 
changes.  The  first  reaction,  following  the  completion  of  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad,  was  past,  and  the  mountains  were  lively  again. 
Rich  silver  veins  had  been  opened  in  the  Wasatch,  and  miners  by 
hundreds  were  pouring  in.  Better  than  all,  U.  S.  Grant  was  at  the 
helm,  and  had  sent  men  to  represent  the  government  in  Utah.  His 
civil  career  has  been  fiercely  criticised*,  but  his  was  the  first  admin- 
istration that  accomplished  any  good  for  Utah.  No  more  bowing  to 
Brigham  in  the  Gentile  programme.  No  more  of  Federal  officials 
dancing  with  his  "wives,"  and  taking  an  invitation  to  his  house  as 
a  high  honor.  No  more  asking  his  gracious  permission  to  remain  in 
Utah ;  and  especially  no  negligence  in  looking  after  Gentile  interests. 

Every  day  brought  tidings  of  rich  discoveries  in  the  mountains. 
When  I  visited  the  Sevier  district  in  1869,  there  was  not  a  mining 
shaft  fifty  feet  deep,  and  not  more  than  a  thousand  non-Mormons  in 
Utah;  by  the  close  of  1870,  the  mining  population  increased  to 
4,000,  and  it  was  soon  established,  beyond  doubt,  that  Utah  was  a 
rich  mining  country.  In  one  month  the  Walker  Brothers  shipped 


120  WESTERN   WILDS. 

4,000  tons  of  ore.  The  early  history  of  the  Emma  Mine  now  reads 
like  a  romance.  Mr.  J.  B.  Woodman  had  never  wavered  in  his  faith 
that  the  hill  north  of  Little  Cottonwood  Caflon  contained  a  rich  de- 
posit. He  had  followed  a  narrow  vein  till  his  means  were  ex- 
hausted, without  making  a  "strike."  His  faith  was  infectious,  and 
one  or  two  grocers  in  Salt  Lake  City  furnished  him  on  credit  a 
hundred  pounds  of  flour  and  some  meat,  which  he  and  his  partners 
carried  up  the  cafion,  wading  through  the  snow.  Before  that  pro- 
vision was  exhausted,  they  came  upon  the  upper  part  of  the  deposit, 
since  known  as  the  Emma  Mine.  In  a  month  thereafter  the  most 
sanguine  spoke  of  it  as  worth  $40,000,  whereat  the  many  laughed. 
Every  foot  of  additional  development  showed  the  ore-body  to  be 
greater,  and  the  property  was  successively  sold  and  stocked  at  higher 
prices.  In  September,  1872,  after  it  had  been  sold  in  London,  a 
gentleman  familiar  with  the  workings  of  the  mine  presented  the  fol- 
lowing exhibit : 

Depth  of  workings        .......  230  feet 

Breadth  of  workings 6  to  40    " 

Length  of  workings 475    " 

Cubic  feet  excavated  (about) 500,000 

Tons  of  ore  extracted 30,000 

Tons  of  waste  and  third-class  ore 15,000 

Value  of  ore $2,500,000 

| 

So  small  had  been  the  expenses  of  working,  on  account  of  the  loose 
nature  of  the  ore,  that  $2,200,000  of  this  had  been  clear  profit.  The 
mine  might  honestly  have  been  sold  for  $2,000,000.  It  was  stocked 
at  $5,000,000.  The  result  was  a  failure  to  pay  dividends  on  such  a 
capital,  a  cessation  of  working,  caving  in  of  the  mine,  a  disgraceful 
lawsuit,  and  an  international  scandal.  The  nation  at  large  has  little 
to  ease  the  smart.  In  Utah  we  have  one  consolation:  all  the  honest 
work  on  the  mine  was  done  by  Gentile  residents;  all  the  fraud  was 
perpetrated  by  men  who  live  outside  of  Utah,  some  of  them  our 
worst  enemies.  But  we  have  suffered  most  of  the  ill  effects.  A 
cloud  was  thrown  upon  Utah  mines  which  delayed  our  progress  for 
two  years. 

In  May  I  went  to  "Washington  City,  as  agent  for  the  Corinne  Gen- 
tiles, and  remained  two  months  and  a  half.  The  next  December  and 
January  I  also  spent  in  Washington  on  the  same  mission.  We  were 
without  representation  in  any  legislative  body,  and  eur  only  recourse 
was  to  have  an  agent  at  Washington,  who,  besides  being  unofficial  in 
character,  had  the  constant  hostility  of  the  Mormon  delegate  in  the 


TWO    YEARS  OF   CHANGE. 


121 


House  of  Representatives.  It  was  then  I  learned  the  miseries  of  a 
lobbyist.  Then  I  knew  what  it  was  to  wait  wearily  on  legislative  ac- 
tion; to  besiege  the  doors  of  congressmen  and  ask  favors  I  could 
not  return,  and  cool  my  heels  in  the  ante-chambers  of  official  great- 
ness. It  was  poison  to  the  soul  of  a  mountaineer.  Of  all  the  varied 
employments  I  have  taken  a  hand  at,  I  look  back  with  the  least  satis- 
faction upon  this  Washington  experience.  I  do  not  wonder  that  lob- 
byists are  suspected  of  monstrous  sins  and  multitudinous  petty  crimes. 
Surely  one  who  should  follow  the  business  long  would  be  mean  enough 
for  any  thing. 

In  midsummer  I  attended  the  remarkable  debate  in  the  Taber- 
nacle at  Salt  Lake  City, 
between  Rev.  J.  P.  New- 
man and  Orson  Pratt, 
which  ended  as  might 
have  been  expected, 
each  party  claiming  the 
victory  for  its  own 
champion.  It  did  not 
interest  me  as  it  might 
have  done  two  years 
before ;  for  I  had  been 
long  enough  in  Utah  to 
know  that  polygamy 
was  far  from  being  the 
worst  evil  of  Mormon- 
ism.  _  To  its  victims  it 
is  doubtless  a  horrible 
institution,  but  to  the 
on-looking  Gentile  it 
partakes  more  of  the 
nature  of  a  comedy. 
As  for  instance,  when  it 
is  gravely  announced  by 
some  old  frog  of  an 
elder,  that  "  a  man  can  't 
ffit  no  exaltation  in  the  MORMON  WIVES  FOB  SUMMER  AND 

celestial  world  'thout  he  's  gone  into  plurality."  Or  when  one  learns 
that  it  is  the  style  among  the  wealthy  to  have  three  wives ;  while 
your  true  saintly  epicure,  if  unable  to  afford  three,  has  at  least  "a 
lean  wife  for  summer  and  a  fat  one  for  winter." 


122  WESTERN   WILDS'. 

But  occasionally  comedy  and  tragedy  are  united,  as  in  the  case 
of  Bishop  Smith,  married  to  two  of  his  cousins  and  two  of  his 
nieces ;  or  in  that  of  Elder  Allsop,  who  has  a  mother  and  daughter 
for  wives,  both  mothers  of  his  children,  the  "whole  brood  living 
together  in  a  little  cabin.  In  the  southern  part  of  Utah  may  be 
seen  two  towns  without  parallels  in  America — Taylorsville  and 
Winnville.  Two  worthy  Mormon  patriarchs,  Elder  Taylor  and 
Elder  Winn,  have  each  taken  numerous  "  wives,"  and  each  of  their 
sons  has  done  the  same.  The  result  is  two  villages,  in  one  of  which 
all  the  inhabitants  are  Taylors,  and  in  the  other  all  Winns.  The 
Taylors  have  been  the  better  Saints,  and  outnumber  the  others  two 
to  one,  which  is  very  disheartening  to  the  Winns.  Old  man  Winn 
is  reported  to  have  said,  to  an  official  who  visited  him  not  long  ago, 
that  life  to  him  was  but  a  weary  desert,  and  at  times  he  felt  like 
fainting  by  the  way-side.  At  other  times  he  declared  that  never 
more  would  he  go  through  the  Endowment  House  and  take  another 
young  wife,  "for  that  old  Taylor  can  just  naturally  raise  two  chil- 
dren to  my  one." 

After  six  weeks'  travel  in  the  mines,  and  a  winter's  work  for 
Gentile  interests,  the  opening  months  of  1871  found  me  again  a 
traveler.  This  time  I  came  eastward,  and,  after  a  brief  rest,  made 
a  tour  of  the  Missouri  Valley.  I  had  been  three  years  in  the  Far 
West,  and  before  I  relate  more  extensive  journeys,  perhaps  this  is 
as  good  a  place  as  any  to  present  a  general  view  of  our  Territories 
and  the  adjacent  States. 

First  let  it  be  noted  that  our  maps  give  no  idea  of  the  nature  of 
the  country ;  they  do  not  show  the  comparative  elevation  and  bar- 
renness. Here  and  there  on  the  common  maps  may  be  seen  the 
words  "Great  American  Desert,"  the  assumption  being  that  all  the 
rest  of  the  region  is  fertile.  The  fact  is  that  barrenness  is  the  rule 
and  fertility  the  exception ;  though  much  of  the  land  that  is  not 
cultivable  still  furnishes  a  coarse  grass. 

Draw  a  line  on  longitude  100°  from  British  America  to  Texas; 
then  go  800  miles  westward,  and  draw  another  from  British  America 
to  Mexico,  and  all  the  area  between  these  two  lines — 800  by  1200 
miles  in  extent;  or  in  round  numbers  a  million  square  miles — is 
the  "American  Desert:"  a  region  of  varying  mountain,  desert,  and 
rock;  of  prevailing  drought  or  complete  sterility,  broken  rarely  by 
fertile  valleys;  of  dead  volcanoes  and  sandy  wastes;  of  excessive 
chemicals,  rock,  gravel,  and  other  inorganic  matter.  Only  the  lower 
valleys,  bordering  perennial  streams,  or  more  rarely  some  plateau 


TWO    YEARS   OF  CHANGE.  123 

on  which  water  can  be  brought  from  the  mountains  for  irrigation,  or 
still  more  rarely  a  green  plat  in  some  corner  of  the  mountains  where 
there  is  an  unusual  amount  of  rain,  or  percolation  of  moisture  from 
above, •constitute  the  cultivable  lands;  all  the  rest  is  rugged  mount- 
ain, rocky  flat,  gravel  bed,  barren  ridge  scantily  clothed  with  sage- 
brush, greasewood  or  bunch-grass,  or  complete  desert — the  last  cover- 
ing at  least  one-third  of  the  entire  region. 

The  reasons  for  this  sterility  are  many :  Elevation  and  consequent 
cold ;  drought  caused  by  the  trend  of  the  bordering  mountains  and 
direction  of  the  prevailing  winds ;  rock  in  all  forms,  and  such  de- 
structive chemicals  as  salt  and  alkali.  Wyoming  contains  98,000 
square  miles,  and  not  a  foot  of  land  less  than  4,000  feet  high.  Colo- 
rado has  about  the  average  elevation  of  Wyoming,  Denver  being 
nearly  on  the  level  of  Cheyenne.  Manifestly  the  high  plains  of  these 
two  Territories  can  never  be  of  value  except  for  grazing.  Utah,  as 
reduced,  contains  over  60,000  square  miles;  but,  except  possibly  a 
few  of  the  sunken  deserts  of  the  south,  the  lowest  valley  is  higher 
than  the  average  summit  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  the  surface  of 
the  Salt  Lake  being  4,250  feet  above  the  sea. 

Hundreds  of  little  valleys  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  beautiful  as 
the  Vale  of  Ilasselas  from  May  till  October,  rich  in  grass  and  game, 
are  yet  useless  to  the  farmer;  grain  can  not  be  made  to  grow  in 
them  by  any  art  of  the  husbandman.  In  Parley's  Park,  Heber  C. 
Kimball  tried  for  seven  years  to  raise  wheat;  it  was  invariably  "cut 
off  in  the  flower"  by  the  September  frosts.  At  Soda  Springs,  Idaho, 
6,500  feet  above  sea-level,  the  "Morrisite"  Mormons  tried  farming 
for  years;  but  only  succeeded  with  rye  and  potatoes,  which  will  ma- 
ture in  a  three-months'  summer.  On  all  the  higher  plains  of  Wyom- 
ing, frost  may  be  looked  for  with  certainty  every  month  in  the 
year.  At  the  Navajo  farms — in  Arizona, — I  have  seen  icicles  six 
inches  long  on  the  rocks,  only  300  feet  above  the  fields,  on  the  18th 
of  June ;  and,  in  1871,  when  the  Indians  had,  with  great  labor, 
brought  forward  a  crop  of  corn,  and  planted  orchards,  on  the  night 
of  May  31st  a  storm  of  sleet  froze  every  plant  and  tree  solid  to  the 
ground.  Nor  are  these  such  difficulties  as  can  be  overcome  by  in- 
dustry; we  must  wait  till  nature  flattens  out  the  country  and  brings 
it  down  into  the  region  of  warm  air  and  abundant  moisture. 

If  all  the  low  lands  were  fertile,  there  would  still  be  a  large  area 
for  agriculture;  but  they  are  far  more  barren  than  the  mountains, 
except  those  tracts  lying  immediately  at  the  base  of  the  ranges,  or  in 
low  valleys  along  some  perennial  stream.  Every-where  in  the  larger 


124  WESTERN  WILDS. 

basins  the  land  at  a  distance  from  the  mountains  is  a  complete  desert, 
generally  whitened  by  alkali.  For  days  of  travel  the  face  of  nature 
is  a  dirty  white,  and  in  dry  weather  an  acrid  and  irritating  dust 
powders  the  traveler  until  all  races  are  of  one  hue.  In  every  Terri- 
tory are  found  such  tracts,  known  by  suggestive  names :  The  Jornada 
del  Muerto,  or  "  Journey  of  the  Dead,"  in  New  Mexico ;  the  Salt 
Desert,  west  of  Great  Salt  Lake,  covering  5,000  square  miles;  the 
Great  Nevada  Desert,  25,000  square  miles  of  utter  desolation ;  the 
White  Desert,  Red  Desert,  Mohave  Desert,  Skull  Valley,  Death  Val- 
ley, the  Mala  Pais  of  the  Spaniard  and  the  Mauvaises  Terres  of  the 
French  voyageur.  Where  the  stage  route  crosses  such  a  tract,  the 
animals  labor  through  a  cloud  of  dust,  and  the  coach  drags  heavily; 
the  wheels  "  cry "  as  they  grind  in  the  sand  and  soda,  and  the  pas- 
sengers endure  as  best  they  can  the  irritation  to  eye  and  nostril  and 
the  slime  formed  upon  the  body  by  dust  and  sweat.  This  penetrating 
alkaline  powder  sifts  in  at  the  smallest  crevice,  and  even  the  clothing 
in  a  valise  is  often  covered  by  it. 

Such  are  the  worst  sections  of  the  West.  Next  above  them  are  the 
grassy  plains,  though  still  unfit  for  agriculture.  Of  the  million  square 
miles  above  bounded,  at  least  one-third  produces  bunch-grass,  which 
chiefly  differs  from  the  verdure  of  the  East  in  that  it  never  forms  a 
continuous  sod  or  green  sward;  it  grows  in  scattered  clumps,  six  or 
eight  to  the  square  rod,  or  thicker  where  the  locality  is  favorable. 
One  can  span  a  bunch  at  the  roots,  but  above  it  spreads;  sometimes 
several  bunches  grow  so  as  to  form  a  clump  a  foot  wide.  It  is  never 
of  a  deep  green,  and  for  three-quarters  of  the  year  is  a  regular  gray- 
brown  ;  hence  an  Eastern  man  might  ride  all  day  through  rich  past- 
ures of  it,  and  think  himself  in  a  complete  desert.  It  gets  its  entire 
growth  in  about  six  weeks,  some  time  between  January  and  July, 
according  to  the  locality.  It  then  cures  upon  the*  ground,  and  stands 
through  the  year  looking  very  much  like  bunches  of  broom-sedge. 
It  is  as  nutritious  as  ripe  oats,  the  species  with  a  white  top,  containing 
a  small  black  seed,  being  particularly  fattening.  With  it  animals 
make  journeys  of  a  thousand  miles  without  an  ounce  of  grain;  with- 
out it,  nine-tenths  of  America  between  meridians  100°  and  120°  would 
be  totally  worthless. 

Probably  the  most  disappointing  feature  in  Rocky  Mountain  scenery, 
to  all  new-comers,  is  the  absence  of  a  green  landscape ;  for  with  rare 
exceptions  the  traveler's  eye  does  not  rest  in  summer  upon  an  unvary- 
ing carpet  of  green  as  in  the  East.  The  bunch-grass  is  a  pale  green, 
or  quite  gray  or  yellow;  the  small  sage-brush  is  white,  and  the  large 


TWO    YEARS   OF  CHANGE.  125 

variety  blue ;  the  greasewood  is  a  dirty  white,  and  the  earth  and  rocks 
white,  yellow  or  red;  the  general  result  is  a  neutral  gray,  which 
seems  to  shroud  all  creation  in  sober  tints.  One  may  ride  all  day 
through  good  bunch-grass  pasture  and  his  horse  be  walking  in  sand 
all  the  time;  or  through  a  tolerably  rich  country  and  never  see  an 
acre  of  that  lively  emerald  which  is  the  charm  of  an  Ohio  landscape. 
A  plat1-  of  green  sward  is  a  rare  sight  in  the  Rocky  Mountains;  but 
eastward,  on  the  high  plains,  other  grasses  appear,  changing  by  slow 
degrees  to  the  heavy  verdure  of  the  Missouri  Valley. 

Last,  and  least  in  extent,  are  the  arable  tracts,  which  are  all  the 
more  fertile  from  receiving  the  wash  of  the  high  lands;  they  are  in 
fact  the  most  fertile  in  the  world.  Utah  alone  contains  some  fifty 
valleys,  of  every  width  from  one  mile  to  fifteen ;  in  them  the  soil  needs 
only  water  to  produce  thirty  and  sixty  and  a  hundred-fold.  But 
between  one  such  valley  and  the  next,  intervene  from  five  to  fifty 
miles  of  rocky  ridges,  gravel  plains  or  alkali  beds,  the  first  two  per- 
haps yielding  bunch  grass,  the  last  a  waste.  In  Nevada  the  propor- 
tion of  good  land  is  much  less-  in  Wyoming  least  of  all,  though  that 
Territory  has  immense  tracts  of  good  grazing  land.  Up  to  5,000  feet 
above  the  sea  all  the  fruits  and  grains  of  the  temperate  zones  are 
produced  in  abundance,  above  that  the  products  lessen  rapidly.  In  a 
few  places  wheat  can  be  grown  at  or  above .  the  6,000  foot  level ;  rye 
and  oats  2,000  feet  higher,  and  near  Central  City,  Colorado,  I  have 
seen  heavy  crops  of  potatoes  produced  at  9,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
Even  the  highest  parks,  where  the  snow  is  six  feet  deep  in  winter,  and 
does  not  melt  away  till  the  middle  of  May,  often  produce  heavy  crops 
of  grass ;  but  neither  fruit  nor  grain  can  be  grown  there. 

The  want  of  water  hinders  settlement  in  many  places  where  the 
land  is  fertile.  If  every  drop  in  Utah  were  utilized,  it  would  not 
irrigate  one-tenth  of  the  Territory.  If  the  Ohio  River  were  turned 
into  the  north-west  corner  of  the  Great  Basin,  not  a  drop  of  it  would 
ever  reach  the  Colorado  above  ground;  the  hot  sun,  dry  air,  gravel 
beds  and  alkali  plains  would  absorb  it  all.  Southward  this  difficulty 
steadily  increases ;  the  water  is  scantier  while  more  is  needed.  In  the 
Rio  Grande  Valley  a  given  area  requires  from  two  to  three  times  as 
much  water  as  in  the  Platte  Valley.  The  Mormons  in  Arizona  put  five 
times  as  much  water  on  an  acre  as  the  Mormons  in  Idaho.  The  trav- 
eler among  the  mountains  of  the  Great  Basin  finds  in  the  higher 
cafions  hundreds  of  streams  of  which  not  one  survives  to  reach  the 
valley ;  scores  of  "  rivers "  are  marked  upon  the  maps,  which  do  not 
contain  a  drop  of  water  after  the  first  of  June.  South  of  latitude  37° 


126  WESTERN   WILDS. 

or  38°,  even  the  attempt  to  secure  a  reservoir  for  the  summer  irriga- 
tion fails;  when  the  water  above  the  dam  has  risen  two  or  three 
feet,  it  seeks  an  underground  course  through  the  porous  soil,  and 
when  most  needed  the  aguada  is  dry.  In  Arizona  I  found  evidences 
that  the  old  race  (Aztec  or  Toltec?)  had  tried  to  remedy  this  by  "pud- 
dling" the  bottom  of  the  aguada,  in  places  even  laying  it  with  bricks 
made  of  most  tenacious  clay ;  but  even  they  were  in  time  compelled  to 
abandon  most  of  the  valleys  by  the  ever-increasing  drought. 

A  Western  man  may  be  allowed  a  smile  at  the  suggestion  of  Pres- 
ident Grant,  that  all  the  streams  issuing  eastward  from  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains might  be  utilized  by  a  great  National  work,  so  as  to  irrigate  all 
the  plains.  Such  a  work  would  cost  hundreds  of  millions,  while  every 
drop  of  water  in  all  those  streams  would  not  irrigate  one-tenth  of  the 
vast  slope  extending  three  hundred  miles  eastward  from  the  mountains. 
Many  suggestions  are  made  as  to  new  methods  of  cultivation  to  meet 
the  difficulties.  Drought  might  possibly  be  overcome,  but  I  see  not 
how  rocky  flats,  gravel -beds  and  plains  of  sand  and  alkali  can  ever  be 
made  productive.  If  there  is  a  total  change  in  the  climate,  corres- 
ponding changes  in  the  land  will  of  course  follow  in  due  time;  but 
that  does  not  seem  to  me  imminent.  To  sum  up :  At  least  nine-tenths 
of  America  between  longitude  100°  and  120°  seem  to  me  irredeemable 
(for  agriculture)  by  any  art  now  known  to  man. 

Important  political  consequences  follow.  Such  a  country  can  never 
sustain  a  dense  population.  The  isolated  trading  town  or  mining 
hamlet,  with  perhaps  half  a  dozen  cities  of  50,000  people,  and  detached 
farming  settlements,  will  occupy  a  very  small  portion  of  the  whole 
area;  all  the  rest  will  be  the  range  of  the  nomadic  hunter  or  herds- 
man. The  limit  of  rapid  settlement,  (unless  from  a  mining  excite- 
ment,) is  already  reached ;  the  phenomena  of  swiftly  growing  States 
like  Iowa  and  Illinois  will  never  be  witnessed  again  in  this  country. 
None  of  the  Territories,  except  possibly  Dakota,  is  increasing  in  popu- 
lation as  fast  as  are  the  States.  Utah,  for  instance,  has  been  settled 
thirty  years  by  a  race  whose  constant  boast  is  their  prolificacy ;  it  has 
barely  100,000  people.  This,  the  most  loudly  blowed  and  persistently 
advertised  of  the  whole  sisterhood,  has  been  knocking  for  admission 
into  the  Union  since  1849  ;  yet  it  has  but  one-tenth  the  population  of 
New  York  City,  two-fifths  that  of  Cincinnati,  and  nothing  like  the 
wealth  or  intelligence  of  a  first-class  county  in  Ohio.  In  the  pro- 
posed State  one  Mormon  would  have  a  power  in  the  United  States 
Senate  equal  to  that  of  thirty  Christians  in  Ohio,  or  fifty  in  New 
York.  In  Nevada  the  inequality  is  far  worse,  though  that  State  has 


TWO    YEARS  OF  CHANGE.  127 

wealth  and  intelligence  to  aid  us.  Wyoming  can  not  sustain  a  popu- 
lation equal  to  that  of  Rhode  Island ;  Idaho  is  scarcely  more  fertile ; 
the  child  is  not  born  that  will  live  to  see  half  a  million  people 
resident  in  the  Great  Basin.  Colorado,  has  a  population  nearly  equal 
to  that  of  Utah ;  New  Mexico  has  a  population  equal  perhaps  to  that 
it  had  three  hundred  years  ago. 

It  is  evident  that  our  form  of  government  must  be  modified  for 
such  communities.  Ideal  civil  systems  may  furnish  amusement  for 
scholars ;  but  a  people  can  only  use  such  a  goverment  as  it  has  grown 
to.  That  "lynch  law"  should  largely  prevail  all  over  the  West,  was 
as  natural,  nay,  as  imperative,  as  that  common  and  statute  law  should 
prevail  in  New  England.  Wyoming,  for  instance,  contains  98,000 
square  miles^  and  less  than  20,000  people;  an  area  more  than  twice  the 
size  of  Pennsylvania,  with  half  the  population  of  an  average  county ! 
Along  the  Pacific  Railway,  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Territory,  are 
a  few  trading  towns ;  all  the  rest  is  grassy  plains,  mountain  and  desert, 
traversed  only  by  mining,  wooding,  hunting  or  herding  parties.  A 
criminal  can  take  a  horse  from  any  town  and  be  in  the  trackless  wilder- 
ness in  two  hours.  When  arrested  according  to  statute  a  posse  must 
convey  him  perhaps  hundreds  of  miles,  to  the  nearest  jail,  and  all  the 
witnesses  must  take  the  same  trip  three  or  four  times.  Perhaps  before 
final  trial  there  is  a  mining  "  stampede,"  or  an,  Indian  war,  and  all  the 
witnesses  leave.  It  would  never  do.  Justice  must  be  brought  home 

O 

to  every  little  hamlet,  and  so  the  Themis  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  a 
wild  huntress.  The  few  inhabitants  must  act  promptly  before  the 
criminal  has  time  to  escape ;  if  it  is  rape,  arson,  murder  or  an  aggra- 
vated case  of  horse-stealing,  he  dies ;  if  a  minor  offense,  a  severe  cow- 
hiding  suffices.  Who  shall  blame  them  ?  Justice  must  be  administered, 
or  no  man's  life  is  safe  an  hour.  It  is  charged  that  they  sometimes 
make  mistakes.  I  have  not  heard  that  the  regular  courts  are  infallible. 
The  Territories  will  soon  present  an  awkward  question.  It  will 
never  do  to  admit  any  more  "rotten-borough"  States;  it  would  de- 
moralize the  Senate,  and  destroy  all  decent  respect  for  the  Federal 
system.  We  have  already  gone  dangerously  near  to  that  consumma- 
tion. In  certain  contingencies  one-fifth  of  the  people  could  elect  a 
President  against  the  united  voice  of  the  four-fifths.  And  yet  the 
territorial  condition  is  anomalous,  and  to  some  extent  unrepublican. 
A  great  reform  would  be  to  allow  them  to  choose  all  their  executive 
officers;  the  President  to  appoint  only  such  officials  as  attend  to 
United  States  business.  Utah  might  be  annexed  entire  to  Nevada; 
the  two  would  then  make  a  State  with  population  enough  for  one 


128  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Representative  in  Congress — this  to  be  done  after  Brigham  Young 
dies,  and  the  Mormon  Church  ceases  to  rule.  The  other  Territories 
might  be  given  more  self-government,  without  the  gross  injustice  of 
making  them  States,  which  is  almost  as  great  a  wrong  to  them  as 
to  the  older  States.  It  is  self-evident  that  an  alpine  region  like 
Wyoming,  needs  a  totally  different  government  from  that  of  a  level 
State  like  Illinois.  Perhaps  the  cantonal  system  might  be  the  best,  as 
far  as  it  gives  each  little  valley  local  self-government. 

The  present  system  is  an  affliction  to  the  pioneers.  Had  not  Utah 
stood  in  the  way  as  a  possible  danger,  it  would  have  been  remedied 
ere  this.  The  demand  for  good  appointees  from  the  President  is  al- 
most futile.  The  sad  fact  is:  Government  can  not  afford  good  men 
in  office  in  most  of  the  Territories ;  the  salaries  are  so  much  less  than 
they  can  make  at  any  legitimate  business.  And  worse  still,  when 
they  try  to  do  their  duty  they  are  almost  certain  to  be  removed  be- 
fore they  learn  how.  An  Eastern  man  is  worth  very  little  his  first 
year  or  two  in  any  Territory.  The  official,  if  honest,  is  exposed  to  a 
constant  pressure  from  those  ruled  over,  and  a  constant  war  on  the 
President  to  have  him  removed.  If  he  had  no  care  but  doing  his 
duty,  he  would  still  have  trouble  enough ;  but  efficiency  and  duty  are 
no  dependence  upon  the  favor  of  the  administration ;  *  and  while  the 
official  in  the  Territory  is  harassed  by  complaints,  by  a  salary  insuffi- 
cient for  himself  and  family,  by  the  damning  criticisms  or  equally 
damning  overpraise  of  the  local  press,  he  is  more  and  more  disquieted 
by  notes  from  his  friends  at  Washington,  where  the  fiat  of  Executive 
wrath  hangs  daily  over  his  official  head,  like  the  ever-trembling 
sword  of  Damocles  suspended  by  a  single  hair.  There  are  men  in 
every  territorial  capital  who  turn  uneasily  upon  their  beds  from 
some  dark  hint  in  the  evening  paper,  and  whose  matin  slumbers  are 
disquieted  by  anxiety  for  the  morning  paper,  to  see  "  the  latest  from 
Washington."  Let  certain  members  and  senators  die,  or  resign,  or 
be  defeated,  or  differ  with  the  President  on  some  pet  scheme,  and 
away  their  heads  would  go  like  pins  from  the  alley;  and  the  more 
they  had  done  their  duty  the  more  they  might  expect  decapitation. 
Hear,  then,  my  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter :  the  system  should  be 
completely  reorganized,  so  as  to  give  the  Territories  self-government, 
and  allow  their  delegates  in  the  House  to  vote  as  well  as  talk ;  then 
they  should  so  remain,  to  be  hunting  and  roving  ground  for  the  rest  of 
the  nation  till  climate  and  soil  change,  or  some  other  cause  shall  have 
made  them  rich  and  populous. 

*  Written  previous  to  March  4,  1877. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  MISSOURI  VALLEY. 

AT  noon  of  a  scorching  day,  our  party  landed  from  a  Missouri  Pa- 
cific train  in  Kansas  City — a  modern  Rome  built  on  seventeen  hills 
instead  of  seven.  Its  citizens  have  ambitious  hopes  equal  to  those  of 
ancient  Romans,  but  for  commerce  instead  of  war.  Real  estate  is  set 
on  edge  in  Kansas  City;  so  it  logically  follows  there  is  twice  the  profit 
in  it.  So  the  citizens  would  seem  to  judge,  from  the  prices  they  ask 
for  lots.  A  new-comer,  looking  for  an  investment,  was  pointed  to  a 
cone-shaped  tract  by  the  owner  who  was  willing  to  sell. 

"  But  is  n't  it  too  steep  and  rough  ?"  he  asked. 

"Just  what  you  want,"  was  the  reply;  "  see  that  lot  down  there?" — 
pointing  to  a  funnel-shaped  plat  some  hundreds  of  feet  below — "well, 
the  man  that  owns  that  will  give  you  $5,000  for  this  hill  to  level  up 
•  his  lot  with." 

Next  day  he  was  approached  by  the  owner  of  the  lower  lot.  "Is  n't 
it  too  low  and  wet?"  he  asked.  "Oh,  my  goodness,  no  !  D'you  see 
that  hill  ?  Well,  the  owner  of  that  has  got  to  level  it,  and  he'll  give 
you  $1,000  for  the  privilege  of  dumping  it  on  this  lot."  The  "  pil- 
grim "  did  not  invest. 

Tli  is  is  the  metropolis  of  western  Missouri  and  eastern  Kansas,  and 
adds  immensely  to  the  wealth  and  population  of  Jackson  County — the 
"  Land  of  Zion,"  according  to  the  revelations  of  Joe  Smith.  Hither 
in  the  spring  of  1831,  came  the  Mormon  Prophet  and  followers,  lo- 
cated the  New  Jerusalem  at  Independence,  and  prophesied  a  greater 
glory  than  earth  had  ever  known.  They  notified  the  citizens  that  it 
was  idle  for  them  to  open  farms  or  build  houses ;  they  were  standing 
in  the  way  of  the  Lord,  who  would  sweep  the  land  with  destruction. 
But  the  Gentiles  saw  the  matter  in  a  different  light ;  they  gathered 
their  forces,  and  after  a  sharp  fight,  in  which  two  were  killed  and 
many  hurt,  drove  the  Saints  across  the  Missouri  into  Clay  County, 
Jackson  now  contains  a  population  equal  to  that  of  Utah,  and  five 
times  as  much  wealth.  It  is  indeed  a  goodly  land.  Prairie  and  grove 
alternate  in  pleasing  variety ;  every  commanding  knoll  is  the  site  of  a 

neat  hamlet,  every  little  grove  contains  a  tasteful  farm-house,  while  the 
9  V*» 


-i30  WESTERN   WILDS. 

% 

open  prairie  is  rich  in  all  the  fruits  and  grains  of  this  clime.  The 
.Saints  made  a  good  selection  for  Zion.  Could  they  have  held  it,  they 
would  doubtless  have  prospered  as  have  the  Gentiles;  but  the  Prophet 
proposed,  and  the  Missourians  disposed,  and  things  are  as  they  are. 

Thence  we  crossed  the  Kaw  into  Kansas,  and  in  a  two  hours'  ride 
up  the  heavily  wooded  valley  of  that  stream  reached  Lawrence,  the 
Athens  of  the  Missouri  valley,  a  town  rich  in  historic  interest  and 
pleasant  to  dwell  in.  In  the  summer  of  1849,  a  party  of  gold-hunters 
camped  for  the  night  near  the  junction  of  the  Kaw  and  Wakarusa, 
where  the  level  prairie  of  the  lower  valley  begins  to  yield  to  high 
ridges  and  rolling  plains.  They  were  enchanted  with  the  beauty  of 
the  spot,  and  on  their  return  from  California  organized  a  company  in 
Massachusetts  ;  again  sought  this  spot,  and  founded  Lawrence,  a  lone 
settlement  of  "Free-State  men,"  forty  miles  from  the  slave  border. 
The  city  has  already  an  ancient  and  a  modern  history,  a  mythical  and 
a  heroic  age.  In  its  first  three  years  it  suffered  four  regular  invasions 
from  Missouri.  In  March,  1855,  the  "border  ruffian? "came,  and 
made  a  population  of  nine  hundred  and  sixty-two  appear  to  cast  a  vote 
of  a  thousand  and  thirty-four.  In  November,  1855,  occurred  the 
"  Wakarusa  War ; "  the  town  was  regularly  besieged,  and  several  men 
killed.  May  21,  1856,  Sheriff  Jones  "  executed  the  writ"  of  Judge 
Lecompte,  by  burning  the  Free-State  Hotel,  and  pillaging  the  town. 
But  freedom  gained  the  day  in  Kansas,  and  the  city  grew.  The  Eld- 
ridge  House  was  built  on  the  site  of  the  Free-State  Hotel,  and  Kansas 
went  through  the  war  for  the  Union  "  5,000  men  ahead  of  all  drafts." 

But  the  worst  was  to  come.  At  daylight  of  August  21,  1863, 
Quantrell  and  his  gang  of  two  hundred  murderers  dashed  into  the 
place;  the  rising  sun  saw  the  city  in  flames,  and  a  hundred  , and 
twenty-five  citizens  lying  dead  among  the  ruins.  Eighteen  more 
afterwards  died  of  their  wounds.  In  the  horrid  annals  of  Western 
barbarism,  only  the  Mountain  Meadow  Massacre  can  rival  it :  this, 
'by  a  community  educated  under  the  discipline  of  slavery;  that,  by  a 
community  educated  under  the  discipline  of  polygamy.  At  one  house 
two  men  were  killed,  and,  in  the  presence  of  their  shrieking  wives, 
their  heads  were  cut  off,  and  stuck  upon  the  gate-posts !  Again  the 
city  rose  from  its  ruins,  and  grew  more  rapidly  than  ever.  Verily,  it 
took  men  to  settle  such  a  place  and  hold  it  for  freedom.  But 

"  The  grain  of  God  springs  up 
From  ashes  beneatli ; 
And  the  crown  of  His  harvest 
Is  life  out  of  death." 
And   Lawrence  is  now  beyond  question  the  most  moral  and  intelli- 


THE  MISSOURI  VALLEY.  131 

gent  city  in  the  Far  West.  Ten  churches,  two  daily,  two  semi- 
weekly  and  four  weekly  papers,  all  well  supported  by  a  population 
of  15,000,  attest  this  statement.  It  is  one  of  the  very  few  places  I 
visit  in 'the  West  at  which  I  always  want  to  stop  and  pitch  my  tent 
for  a  life-time. 

Thence  by  way  of  the  Leavenworth,  Lawrence  &  Galveston 
Railroad,  we  journey  up  the  valley  of  the  Wakarusa,  and  through 
a  dense  grove  of  elm,  walnut,  ash,  and  hackberry.  But  a  few  miles 
bring  us  out  upon  the  high  and  rolling  prairies,  covered  with  a 
variety  of  bright  flowers  and  native  grasses,  where  we  find  a  strange 
mingling  of  Northern  and  Southern  scenery.  The  year  1871,  that 
of  our  journey,  was  the  wettest  Kansas  had  ever  known;  but  it 
is  never  too  wet,  and  farm  products  of  all  kinds  were  abundant. 
Three  years  later  came  drought,  with  it  chintz-bugs  and  grass- 
hoppers, and  after  it  destitution.  Experience  has  shown  that  these 
dry  seasons  must  be  looked  for  at  least  once  in  seven  years.  At 
Ottawa,  in  the  rich  valley  of  the  Marais  des  Cygnes,  we  find  a  more 
Southern  population  than  that  of  Lawrence,  but  no  less  active  in 
their  own  interests.  A  Southern  "Yankee"  is  the  most  crafty  of 
the  class,  as  witness  this  little  incident :  In  the  early  days  a  popular 
clergyman  of  Ottawa  sold  what  he  averred  to  be  a  "  blooded  mare " 
to  one  of  his  deacons.'  Shortly  after,  the  deacon  observed  some 
motions  in  his  purchase  he  did  not  like,  and  sought  the  minister's 
study  with — 

"Brother  K ,  that  mare  I  bought  of  you  seems  a  little  stiff 

in  the  shoulders." 

Drawing  a  fine  Partaga  from  "between  his  lips,  the  reverend 
pleasantly  rejoined, 

"Better  not  mention  that,  deacon;  it  might  injure  the  sale  of 
her." 

New  light  broke  into  the  deacon's  mind.  He  "  farewelled,"  and 
took  his  leave. 

South  of  the  Marais  des  Cygnes  we  rise  to  the  Ozark  Ridge, 
"  divide  "  between  the  waters  flowing  North  and  those  draining  into 
the  Neosho,  a  high  and  rocky  tract  which  for  ten  miles  or  more  in 
width  is  of  little  value  except  for  grazing.  The  rock  lies  in  thin 
layers  but  a  few  inches  below  the  surface,  which  is  largely  dotted 
with  "  buffalo  stamps."  These  are  said  to  have  been  caused  by  buf- 
faloes crowding  together,  stamping  and  licking  the  ground,  led  thereto 
by  a  saline  element  in  the  soil.  Our  domestic  cattle,  naturalized  in 
Kansas,  sometimes  acquire  the  same  habit.  Thence  we  run  down 


132  WESTERN   WILDS. 

a  long  and  beautiful  slope,  fertility  increasing  with  every  mile,  into 
Allen  County,  the  agricultural  center  of  Southern  Kansas.  Ten 
days  we  traveled  about  in  Allen,  gathering  figures  as  to  climate, 
crops,  and  the  price  of  lands — all  included  in  a  later  chapter.  This 
county  already  contains  a  population  of  twelve  or  fifteen  thousand, 
an  enterprising  and  intelligent  people,  Iron  bridges  span  the  Ne- 
osho  ;  the  roads  are  equal  to  those  in  the  East ;  churches  and  schools 
abound,  and  the  immigrant  finds  himself  in  the  center  of  an  organ- 
ized and  progressive  commonwealth.  There  are  more  intelligent 
men  than  new  communities  can  usually  boast;  music  is  extensively 
cultivated,  and  the  common  schools  are  modeled  after  the  plan  of 
those  of  Massachusetts. 

Seeing  that  we  were  eager  for  information  (our  business  was  to 
furnish  facts  to  intending  emigrants),  the  old  settlers  gave  us  good 
measure.  In  their  account  there  never  was  so  rich,  so  great,  so 
prosperous  a  region,  never  such  another  chance  to  make  money ;  the 
towns  were  all  certain  to  make  great  cities ;  lots  were  sure  to  double 
in  price  in  a  year;  pure  fat  might  run  in  the  furrows,  and  corn  be 
made  to  tassle  and  silk  in  greenbacks;  one's  children  would  grow  fat 
by  mere  contact  with  the  soil,  and  his  wife  resume  the  beauty  of  her 
youth ;  roasted  shoats,  with  knife  and  fork  stuck  in  their  backs,  would 
in  due  time  rub  against  him  and  beg  to  be  eaten,  and  such  robust 
health  enliven  his  frame  that  when  he  longed  for  death  he  must  move 
back  East.  One  resident  of  Deer  Creek,  we  were  assured,  had  lived 
so  long  that  life  was  a  burden  (to  his  heirs,  probably).  Weary  of 
existence,  he  moved  back  to  Illinois,  and  there  succeeded  in  giving 
up  the  ghost,  having  first  stipulated  that  he  should  be  buried  on  his 
Kansas  farm.  But  such  were  the  life-giving  properties  of  this  soil, 
that,  when  laid  in  it,  animation  returned  to  his  limbs,  his  heart 
resumed  its  pulsations,  and  the  incorrigible  centenarian  walked  forth, 
to  the  disgust  of  his  heirs,  and  the  confusion  of  those  who  had  doubts 
about  Kansas. 

Three  years  after  our  visit  came  the  notable  dry  year;  seven  years 
of  good  crops  had  made  them  careless,  and  from  1873  till  1875  some 
of  the  people  of  Southern  Kansas  actually  suffered  for  the  necessaries 
of  life.  Will  experience  make  them  more  provident,  or  will  it  con- 
tinue to  be  a  feast  or  a  famine  with  them? 

Continuing  our  examination  of  rural  Kansas,  by  successive  stages 
southward,  we  passed  next  into  Neosho  County,  a  tract  of  great  fertil- 
ity, but  largely  unsettled,  much  of  the  land  still  belonging  to  the  rail- 
roads. Thence  we  bore  down  into  Montgomery  County,  and  traversed 


THE  MISSOURI   VALLEY.  133 

the  beautiful  slopes  bordering  the  Verdigris  River :  a  region  of  inex- 
haustible richness,  and  dotted  at  irregular  intervals  by  those  cone- 
shaped  mounds  of  rock  and  gravel,  which  are  the  delight  of  the  trav- 
eler and  the  despair  of  science.  Some  are  perfectly  circular,  rising 
abruptly  from  the  plain  with  a  rocky  wall  of  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  in 
height,  upon  which  stands  the  cone  of  loam  and  clay,  often  crowned 
with  a  pretty  clump  of  trees  and  bushes.  Others  rise  in  long  swells, 
abrupt  at  one  end  and  sloping  gradually  to  the  plain  at  the  other; 
and  still  others  are  mole-shaped,  of  every  length  from  fifty  to  ten 
thousand  feet,  and  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  feet  in  height.  A  few  have 
large  tracts  of  fertile  land  on  top,  and  farms  have  been  located  on 
their  summits.  Cherryvale,  then  terminus  of  the  L.  L.  &  G.  R.  R., 
was  our  last  stopping- place — a  lively  town  of  great  pretensions.  As 
laid  off,  it  is  about  the  size  of  Cincinnati ;  but  only  a  half  dozen 
squares  are  built  up  yet.  Thence,  late  in  July,  we  turned  northward 
to  hunt  the  cooler  sections  of  the  valley. 

The  Southern  Kansian  we  found  to  be  a  good  fellow,  but  somewhat 
prone  to  the  marvelous  and  romantic.  "  Snake  stories "  were  abun- 
dant. Those  reptiles  are  common,  but  seldom  dangerous.  The  most 
formidable  looking  is  the  "bull-snake,"  so  called,  an  immense  thing 
of  four  or  five  feet  in  length,  which  gets  its  name  from  its  blunt  head 
and  thick,  clumsy  body.  Strangers  often  mistake  its  resonant  hiss 
for  the  rattle  of  the  real  crotalus  horridus,  or  rattlesnake.  The  only 
dangerous  snakes  are  the  little  "  prairie  rattlers,"  seldom  over  two 
feet  long;  they  are  dull  and  sluggish,  rarely  bite,  and  their  bite,  I 
believe,  never  proves  fatal.  But  they  serve  an  admirable  purpose  for 
local  romancers.  A  settler  told  us  of  one  which  bit  his  horse :  the 
animal  fell  dead,  and  when  he  examined  the  wound,  the  marks  of  the 
upper  and  lower  fangs  were  four  inches  apart!  Discount  sixty  per 
cent,  when  a  Kansian  talks  about  snakes.  Another  told  of  stirring 
up  an  immense  rattler  while  he  was  hoeing  corn.  He  aggravated  it 
till  it  struck  its  fangs  into  the  hoe-handle,  then  killed  it,  and  was 
proceeding  with  his  work,  when  he  observed  the  handle  growing 
larger,  perceptibly  swelling  with  the  poison.  This  continued  for  an 
hour,  when  "the  eye  of  the  hoe  popped  out."  Of  course  the  trichina- 
spiralis  was  peculiarly  bad  in  such  a  country.  We  were  told  of  one 
man  in  Doniphan  County,  who  read  all  the  accounts  of  that  news- 
paper epidemic,  and  in  turn  felt  all  the  symptoms  described.  He  had 
the  "spirals"  bore  through  his  skin;  in  fact  got  decidedly  "wormy." 
So  he  took  a  powerful  emetic,  and  threw  up  three  or  four  handfuls 
of  pork  worms,  three  lizards,  a  section  of  the  worm  of  the  still, 


134  WESTERN  WILDS. 

two  bull-snakes,  and  a  few  rods  of  worm-fence,  after  which,  adds  the 
local  chronicle,  he  began  to  feel  better. 

From  Ottawa  we  took  the  Kansas  City  branch  of  the  road,  passing 
through  the  beautiful  farming  regions  of  Johnson  County ;  and  from 
Kansas  City  the  Missouri  Valley  Road  to  Leavenworth.  Railroads 
have  been  built  for  future  rather  than  present  demands  in  Kansas; 
and  the  reaction  in  1873,  as  it  prevented  the  rapid  growth  which  was 
expected,  has  caused  many  an  investor  to  wail  for  his  money  in  rail- 
way stocks.  Ten  years  from  now  Kansas  railroads  will  pay  div- 
idends; at  present  running  expenses  only  are  counted  on.  The  first 
station  out  is  Wyandotte,  with  perhaps  3,000  people,  once  a  rival,  now 
"  merely  a  feeder  of  Kansas  City."  A  little  farther  on  is  the  twice- 
dead  Quindaro,  once  the  great  city  (to  be)  of  this  valley.  In  1857 
and  1858,  it  supported  a  rattling  daily  paper  known  as  the  Quindaro 
Chindowan.  The  first  was  the  name  of  the  Delaware  Indian  woman 
who  sold  the  plat  to  the  whites;  the  second,  in  the  same  tongue, 
means  "  a  bundle  of  rods  " — the  sign  of  authority.  Its  bright  and 
saucy  editorials  excelled  all  specimens  extant  of  Kansas  blowing. 
Here  was  to  be  a  second  Babylon,  a  city  founded  on  a  rock,  while 
Wyandotte,  on  the  sand,  would  sink  to  nothingness;  here  was  to  be  the 
entrepot  of  all  travel  from  the  plains;  Kansians  would  certainly  pat- 
ronize their  own  town  rather  than  cross  the  Kaw  into  Missouri,  and 
here  would  be  the  metropolis  of  the  glorious  free  and  boundless  West. 
But  an  inscrutable  law  of  nature  has  determined  the  location  of  great 
cities ;  Kansas  City  got  all  the  trade,  Wyandotte  stood  still,  and  Quin- 
daro disappeared.  The  site  was  entirely  abandoned  for  some  years, 
and  is  now  occupied  by  a  few  farmers.  The  original  locators  had 
kept  even  by  selling  lots ;  later  buyers  were  ruined. 

Leavenworth  and  Atchison  we  voted  "dull,"  and  passed  on  to  Troy, 
the  neat  little  capital  of  Doniphair  County,  and  another  "  city  "  which 
had  outlived  its  first  aspirations.  So  many  "cities"  were  laid  off  and 
incorporated  in  Kansas  that  a  wag  in  the  first  Free-State  Legislature 
gravely  proposed  a  law  "  to  reserve  every  fourth  section  of  land  for 
agricultural  purposes."  Doniphan  County  is  the  oldest  part  of  Kansas; 
the  region  is  rolling  or  hilly,  but  the  soil  is  fertile,  and  timber  and  run- 
ning water  abundant.  The  junction  of  the  Atchison  and  Nebraska 
Road  with  the  St.  Joseph  and  Denver  City  Road,  is  a  mile  south- 
west of  Troy,  giving  the  traveler  the  benefit  of  an  omnibus  ride  up 
"Almond  Avenue."  At  the  corner  of  the  avenue  and  Broadway,  I 
noticed  a  fine  herd  of  cattle  grazing,  and  through  this  part  of  the  city 
the  stock  have  kicked  down  the  surveyor's  stakes,  so  it  is  difficult  for 


THE  MISSOURI  VALLEY.  135 

one  to  find  his  high-priced  property.  Between  Spruce  and  Elm 
Streets  was  a  fine  field  of  corn,  and  just  beyond,  in  the  north-east 
corner  of  the  city  plat,  we  found  the  village  of  Troy. 

After  a  week  there,  and  a  visit  to  the  Otoe  Reservation,  just  over 
the  line  in  Nebraska,  we  again  turned  northward.  From  Troy  to 
Elm  wood,  opposite  St.  Joseph,  we  pass  rapidly  over  a  down  grade. 
St.  Joseph  looked  beautiful  from  the  western  bank  of  the  Missouri, 
but  like  most  of  the  towns  along  that  stream,  was  quiet  in  1871.  The 
reaction  from  the  speculative  fever  of  1864—70,  which  culminated  in 
the  panic  of  1873,  came  on  two  years  earlier  in  the  West  than  in  the 
East.  Men  who  felt  themselves  growing  weaker,  withdrew  distant 
investments  and  concentrated  their  strength  nearer  home.  Thence 
we  moved  up  the  Missouri  Valley,  by  way  of  the  Kansas  City,  St.  Joseph 
nnd  Council  Bluifs  Road ;  all  the  way  through  grassy  meadowrs  or 
wooded  vales,  stretching  from  river  to  bluffs,  where  not  one  acre  in 
ten  is  fenced  or  cultivated,  and  there  is  always  a  gentle  breeze  and 
freedom  from  dust.  Few  trips  are  so  enjoyable.  It  is  strange  that  so 
little  of  that  broad,  rich  valley  is  occupied;  it  is  in  easy  reach  of  mar- 
ket, and  the  Nebraska  side  is  well  settled.  It  is  observable  that  the 
eastern  margin  of  all  these  new  States  is  settled  more  thickly  than  the 
western  border  of  the 
States  next  east  of 
them.  Cities  on  the 
western  banks  of 
streams  grow  faster 
than  those  on  the  east- 
ern, and  railroads  run- 
ning east  and  west 

,  , .  ,,  "  GREAT  EXPECTATIONS." 

seem  to  have  more  lite 

and  energy  than  those  running  north  and  south.  Before  one  State  is 
filled  to  the  western  border,  another  is  opened  and  surveyed,  and  em- 
igrants seem  to  prefer  the  newer  one.  Another  cause,  perhaps,  is  that 
large  grants  of  Iowa  land  were  made  to  railroads.  There  were  five 
such  strips  granted  across  the  State,  besides  several  smaller  ones ;  on 
the  Nebraska  side  the  grants  run  westward  from  the  river,  and  not 
parallel  with  it.  Within  railroad  grants  the  settler  can  only  take 
eighty  acres,  for  which  he  must  pay  $2.50  per  acre;  outside  of  them 
he  can  take  a  hundred  and  sixty  at  half  the  price  per  acre. 

Omaha  and  Council  Bluffs  we  also  found  dull ;  clerks  had  time  to 
read  the  papers,  and  the  stir  which  attended  the  last  two  years  of  con- 
structing the  Union  Pacific  was  conspicuously  lacking.  Thence  to 


136  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Sioux  City  we  traveled  by  way  of  the  Sioux  City  and  Pacific  Railroad. 
All  this  distance,  one  hundred  miles,  is  over  the  broad,  level  valley  of 
the  Missouri.  The  lower  part  of  the  valley  is  wet,  and  largely  occupied 
by  sloughs  and  old  bayous.  That  region  is  settled  only  on  the  border- 
ing highlands  and  slopes.  This  improves  as  we  go  northward;  Onawa 
and  Woodbury  are  fair  villages  in  fine  stretches  of  land,  and  near 
Sioux  City  the  country  is  higher  and  better  improved.  That  city  had 
held  its  own  better  than  most  places  on  the  Missouri.  At  one  time  it 
was  intended  that  the  Union  Pacific  shjould  run  westward  from  that 
point,  and  up  the  valley  of  the  Niobrara.  But  mysterious  influences 
were  at  work  at  Washington,  and  Sioux  City  lost  that  advantage.  She 
now  has,  however,  four  lines  of  railroad,  including  that  to  Yankton.. 

From  Missouri  Valley  Junction  to  Sioux  City  the  passengers  were  a 
new  set  entirely.  There  were  emigrants  for  North-west  Iowa  or  Da- 
kota, Indian  traders  or  agents,  cattle  dealers  who  had  army  contracts, 
herders,  fur  dealers,  officers  and  soldiers  for  the  posts  on  the  Upper 
Missouri,  and  a  sprinkling  of  passengers  for  the  Red  River  of  the 
North,  Pembina,  and  the  British  Possessions.  From  Sioux  City  we 
took  stage  for  Yankton.  The  night  had  been  rainy,  and  the  mud 
was  like  glue.  A  tenacious  mixture  of  clay  and  sand,  mingled  with 
prairie  grass,  would  collect  on  the  wheels  till  they  resembled  vast  re- 
volving cylinders,  then  fall  off  in  immense  wads,  each  weighing  at  least 
a  hundred  pounds.  Through  this  we  toiled  for  twenty  miles,  reaching 
a  better  country,  dotted  with  fine  farms  and  neat  cottages.  In  the  cor- 
ner between  the  Big  Sioux  and  Missouri  is  a  French  settlement; 
further  on  are  Scandinavian  and  Bohemian  villages.  The  settled  part 
of  the  Territory  is  largely  filled  with  foreigners — all  industrious,  and 
most  of  fair  intelligence.  In  the  valley  of  the  Missouri  there  is  a 
nearly  level  flood  plain,  of  inexhaustible  richness,  and  adorned  by 
heavy  bodies  of  timber  along  the  streams.  The  heavy  fields  of  grain 
were  ripe,  and  in  them  were  Danes  and  Norwegians  at  work,  men  and 
women  binding  wheat  together  in  happy  equality.  The  women  were 
every  whit  as  stout  as  the  men,  and  seemed  to  endure  the  heat  equally 
well.  Anthony,  Stanton,  and  Livermore  would  have  preached  wotn- 
ans'  rights  to  them  in  vain.  Whatever  rights  they  wanted  they 
took,  and  thought  no  more'  about  it.  Outsiders  have  repeatedly  peti- 
tioned the  Dakota  Legislature  to  enfranchise  the  sex,  and  have  as  often 
been  refused.  The  residents  care  nothing  about  it,  and  evidently  have 
an  eye  to  the  utility  of  woman,  rather  than  her  rights. 

Fourteen  hours  staging  from  Sioux  City  brought  us  to  Yankton, 
the  ambitious  capital  of  Dakota,  where  I  spent  a  week  with  my 


THE  MISSOURI   VALLEY.  137 

brother,  then  Surveyor-General  of  the  Territory.  This  place  has  the 
only  first-rate  site  for  a  city  above  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Sioux,  and  is 
the  natural  discharge  depot  of  all  the  farming  section  of  Dakota.  Not 
more  than  one-third  of  that  Territory  is  fertile  land,  and  that  lies  al- 
most entirely  in  the  eastern  and  southern  sections.  Along  the  Big 
Sioux,  James  River  and  Red  River  a  fertile  strip,  nearly  one  hundred 
miles  wide,  extends  from  the  Missouri  to  the  British  line,  while  on  the 
south  a  narrow  arm  runs  up  the  Missouri.  Thus  the  good  land  lies 
much  in  the  shape  of  a  V,  the  left  arm  being  much  shorter  and  more 
narrow.  Go  northward  and  westward  from  these  tracts,  and  you  rise 
by  imperceptible  stages :  first  to  a  strip  of  second-class  land,  then  to  a 
tract  fit  only  for  grazing,  and  finally  to  complete  desert,  the  last  known 
as  the  eouteau  or  mauvaises  terres  ("Bad-lands").  Enthusiastic  pro- 
moters of  railroad  stocks  have  told  us  how  easily  these  barren  tracts 
are  to  be  redeemed,  but  the  author  begs  leave  to  dissent. 

All  the  white  inhabitants  are  in  the  extreme  southern  or  north-east- 
ern sections — the  latter  so  far  away  from  Yankton  that  Congress  has 
lately  listened  to  their  repeated  appeals  for  a  separate  government. 
They  are  in  the  noted  Pembina  region,  a  section  older  in  history  than 
Iowa;  a  section  I  visited  the  next  year,  and  found  a  delightful  coun- 
try— for  Hyperboreans.  All  the  rest  of  Dakota  is  occupied  by  strag- 
gling bands  of  Sioux — the  original  Romans  of  the  North-west — whose 
business  and  amusements  were  to  hunt  buffaloes  and  Pawnees.  The 
former  furnished  them  with  food,  clothing,  lodge-covers,  bow-strings, 
and  a  dozen  other  conveniences ;  the  latter  with  victims  for  the  stake 
and  torture.  Of  late  years,  by  .union  with  the  whites,  the  Pawnees 
have  turned  the  tables  very  handsomely  on  their  old  foes.  The  Sioux 
at  the  lower  agencies  and  about  Yankton  are  "civilized;"'  they  dress 
somewhat  like  white  men,  raise  some  grain,  swear,  gamble,  and  drink 
whisky.  At  the  agency  near  Yankton  they  have  a  flourishing  church 
(Episcopalian),  and  publish  a  weekly  paper  in  the  Sioux  language.  It 
is  called  lapi  Oahye — meaning  "  Talk  carried  about" — is  Republican  in 
politics,  and  ardently  supports  President  Grant's  "humanitarian  pol- 
icy" toward  the  Indians. 

The  spurs  of  the  Black  Hills  project  into  Western  Dakota,  and  all 
the  adjacent  region  consists  of  a  series  of  lofty  plateaus,  either  totally 
barren  or  scantily  clothed  with  grass.  With  an  area  of  150,000  square 
miles,  the  Territory  has  a  body  of  fertile  land  as  large  as  Indiana,  as 
much  more  good  grazing  land,  and  at  least  twice  as  much  of  desert. 
The  fertile  sections  will  some  day  support  an  immense  population  of 
the  North-European  races,  and,  in  due  time,  form  a  prosperous  State. 


138 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


As  I  have  since  visited  all  sections  of  the  Missouri  Valley,  a  few  gen~ 
eral  notes  are  in  order. 

This  valley  is  only  the  lowest  and  richest  part  of  that  great  section 
known  as  the  "  plains" — an  inclined  plane,  from  four  to  six  hundred 
miles  wide,  between  the  river  and  the  eastern  base  of  the  Rocky 


DAKOTAS  TORTURING  A  PAWNEE. 


Mountains,  and  stretching  from  Texas  far  into  British  America.  Di- 
vide this  region  into  three  equal  strips  north  and  south,  and  the  east- 
ern strip  will  comprise  nearly  all  fertile  land,  the  western  nearly  all 
barren  plains  and  grazing  land,  and  the  middle  a  mixture  of  the  two. 


THE  MISSOURI  VALLEY.  139 

Let  one  start  where  he  will  on  the  Missouri,  and  travel  westward  on 
any  section  line,  he  will  for  the  first  seventy-five  miles  traverse  a  region 
rich  in  landed  wealth;  the  "bottoms"  of  inexhaustible  fertility,  the 
slopes  and  upland  equal  to  any  wheat  lands  in  the  world.  Every- 
where rich  prairie  graces  are  mingled  with  bright-hued  flowrers,  with 
the  colors  of  the  tropical  and  temperate  climes.  Continuing  westward, 
he  will  notice  a  disappearance  of  the  timber  along  the  streams;  it 
shrinks  to  gnarled  and  twisted  shrubs,  contending  feebly  for  life 
against  drought  and  annually  recurring  fires.  Two  hundred  miles  out, 
the  verdure  of  the  Missouri  Valley  disappears ;  gama  grass  and  buffalo 
grass  begin  to  take  its  place,  and  only  the  lower  valleys  contain  culti- 
vable land.  Another  hundred  miles  will  take  him  into  a  region  where 
farming  land  is  the  rare  exception,  and  where  even  the  high  plains  are 
dotted  by  tracts  of  alkali — the  range  of  the  buffalo  and  antelope.  In 
the  strip  along  the  Missouri,  with  an  average  width  of  a  hundred  and 
fifty  or  two  hundred  miles,  will  be  located  all  the  agricultural  population 
of  Kansas  and  Nebraska ;  in  the  same  strip  continued  northward  along 
the  Big  Sioux  and  Red  River,  all  that  of  Dakota,  and  southward  the 
same  in  the  Indian  Territory.  All  the  rest,  to  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
will  be  the  range  of  the  nomadic  hunter  and  herdsmen.  But  in  the 
fertile  strip  thus  bounded  are  still  a  hundred  thousand  square  miles 
unoccupied,  of  the  best  land  in  America — a  domain  to  support  in  afflu- 
ence ten  million  people.  Its  development  will  not  probably  be  as 
rapid  as  that  of  Iowa  or  Illinois,  for  reasons  already  given  ;  but  ere  an- 
other generation  has  passed,  the  States  of  Pembina  (Huron?),  Dakota, 
and  Oklahoma  will  take  their  places  beside  Kansas  and  Nebraska. 

The  middle  of  August  I  joined  an  excursion  party  at  Omaha,  and 
with  them  made  my  eleventh  trip  over  the  Union  Pacific.  The  broad 
plains  of  Nebraska,  the  rugged  mountains  of  Wyoming,  the  great  desert 
and  the  plains  of  Bridger,  the  alkaline  flats  of  Bitter  Creek,  and  the 
wild  beauty  of  Echo  and  Weber  Cafions,  had  lost  none  of  their  interest 
by  a  short  absence ;  and  I  arrived  at  my  old  home  in  Utah  more  than 
convinced  that  Western  life  was  the  thing  for  my  health  and  happiness. 
A  brief  rest  among  the  Saints  and  Gentiles,  and  our  party  moved  on  to 
San  Francisco,  where  we  girded  up  our  loins  for  the  high  climbs 
among  the  wonders,  of  the  Sierras. 


CHAPTER  X.   ' 

THE  WONDERS   OF   CALIFORNIA. 

ALL  aboard  for  Yosemite  and  the  Big  Trees !  How  the  mind 
swells  as  these  words  are  called  through  the  hotel,,  and  the  fancy 
paints  what  is  to  come :  giant  vegetation  and  wondrous  woods ;  the 
work  of  riotous  nature  in  a  tropical  clime  and  fertile  soil,  exceeding 
all  the  wonders  of  romance  with  growing  reality;  rocky  canons  and 
happy  valleys;  glacier-hewn  cliffs,  reared  thousands  of  feet  in  the  air; 
waterfalls  and  mirror  lakes ;  immense  flumes,  cut  by  living  streams  in 
the  solid  granite;  majestic  falls,  and  crystal  cascades,  foaming  from  a 
hundred  hills. 

But  between  us  and  these  wonders  intervene  many  miles  of  weari- 
some travel,  days  of  toil  and  nights  of  broken  rest.  Before  my  visit 
I  wondered  that  so  many  excursionists  visited  California,  and  never 
went  to  Yosemite  or  the  Big  Trees.  I  wonder  no  longer;  for  the  trip 
is  one  which  may  well  make  the  most  hardy  hesitate,  though  truly  as- 
sured that  in  the  end  he  shall  see  wonders  that  have  no  equal  upon 
this  planet.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  staging  upon  the  rocky 
Sierras,  beneath  an  August  sun,  and  half  the  time  enveloped  in  red 
dust,  are  enough  to  make  one  seriously  ask,  Does  it  pay  to  visit 
Yosemite? 

We  leave  chilly  "  Frisco  "  at  4  P.  M.,  and  spend  the  night  at  Stock- 
ton, experiencing  in  that  short  distance  about  as  great  a  change  of 
climate  as  if  we  should  go  in  April  from  Chicago  to  New  Orleans. 
Thence  at  daylight  we  take  the  Stockton  and  Copperopolis  Railroad, 
which  runs  to  Milton,  where  the  foothills  begin.  In  California,  every 
thing  under  two  thousand  feet  high  is  called  a  hill ;  if  it  leads  up  to  a 
mountain,  a  foothill.  At  8  o'clock,  of  a  sultry  morning,  we  take  the 
stage  at  Milton  and  strike  north-east,  over  a  dusty  road,  cheered  at 
rare  intervals  by  a  transient  breath  of  wind. 

Copperopolis  is  one  of  the  dead  mining  towns  of  the  Sierras,  built 
in  "the  great  copper  excitement."  Its  history  is  like  that  of  other 
mining  towns  which  did  not  happen  to  be  located  in  the  right  place ; 
all  summed  up  in  the  Piiite  Indian's  comment:  "Koshbannim!  heap 
money  spend  ;  goddam,  no  ketch  'um." 

(140) 


THE  WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


141 


From  noon  till  5  P.  M.,  we  endure  the  thumping  of  a  Concord 
coach  over  the  Sierra  spurs,  those  within  frying,  those  without  broil- 
ing; in  valleys  where  the  thermometer  stands  in  dead  air  at  100°,  or 
over  ridges  where  the  stifling  dust  is  mitigated  sometimes  by  a  gentle 
breeze.  This  all  the  way  to  Murphy's,  another  old  mining  town, 
where  we  receive  the  cheering  intelligence  that  the  real  trouble  of  the 
route  is  about  to  begin.  We  change  from  the 
coach  to  a  "mountain-wagon" — so-called — a 
street  hack  with  three  seats  and  no  springs — 
capital  thing  for  a  torpid  liver.  Despite  the 
jolting,  our  condition  is  improved.  We  leave 
the  dust;  for  there  is  not  soil  enough  up  here 
to  create  it.  We  run  beside  clear,  cold  streams. 
We  are  in  a  region  of  cool  airs.  The  road  is 
shaded  by"  rocky  cliifs,  or  on  the  levels  by  tall 
timber;  and  the  wild  ever- varying  beauty  of 
gorge,  crag,  or  wooded  flat  makes  us  forget 
fatigue. 

The  vegetation  changes  as 
we  gain  in  elevation.  The 
shrubby  manzanita,  dwarfish 
oak,  and  arrowwood  disap- 
pear, and  we  are  in  a  magnif- 
icent forest  of  tall  trees  with- 
out underbrush.  Every  mile 
the  trees  increase  in  size;  the 
smallest  we  see  for  hours  are 
three  or  four  feet  in  thickness, 
and  nature  seems  to  usher  us 
in  through  fitting  portals  to 
the  wonders  that  are  to  come. 
The  big  trees  do  not  stand 
alone  in  grandeur,  as  I  had  supposed ;  but,  for  twenty  miles  around, 
vegetation  shades  off  gradually  in  forests  of  immense  pines.  At  last 
we  reach  the  borders  of  "  The  Grove "  par  excellence,  while  there  is 
still  light  enough  to  appreciate  its  glories. 

There  they  stand,  the  vegetable  wonders  of  the  world :  some  in 
clusters,  joining  their  branches  like  the  columns  of  great  gothic  arches 
reaching  away  to  prop  the  firmament,  or  now  and  then  one  isolated, 
and  stretching  out  gaunt  arms  and  opening  boughs  as  if  it  would 
drink  the  clouds.  The  majority  appear  stumpy  and  truncated,  too 


THE  TVYO  GUARDSMEN. 


142 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


THE  FALLEN  MONARCH. 


thick  for  their  length ;  but  others  stretch  away  in  long,  graceful  col- 
umns of  arborescent  proportions,  height,  thickness,  and  branches,  all  in 
such  perfect  correspondence,  that  half  the  eifect  of  their  size  is  lost ; 
there  is  such  harmony  in  adjacent  trees,  and  between  different  parts  of 
the  same  tree,  that  the  sense  of  size  is  lessened  by  that  of  elegant  uni- 
formity. Most  of  the  trees  of  two  or  three  hundred  feet  in  height, 

have  a  decidedly  stumpy  appearance, 
looking  like  gigantic  stubs  rather 
than  trees.  At  first  view  it  seemed 
to  me  the  tops  must  have  been  broken 
off.  The  branches  add  much  to  this- 
illusion  from  the  fact  that  they  bend 
downward,  starting  even  from  the 
body  of  the  tree  at  an  angle  of  twenty 
degrees  below  the  horizontal.  This 
is  caused  by  the  weight  of  winter 
snows,  continued  annually  through 
all  the  thousands  of  years  of  their 
growth.  The  smallest  of  these  adjacent  trees  in  an  Ohio  forest  would 
create  astonishment;  yet  here  they  appear  trifling,  as  mere  striplings 
shading  off  and  filling  nature's  interval  between  the  mammoths  and 
common  underbrush.  Strangest  of  all,  other  things  appear  much 
dwarfed.  As  the  coach  drives  between  the  "  Two  Guardsmen/'  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Grove,  the  horses  appear  like  mere  ponies,  shrunk  to 
half  their  natural  size.  My  companion,  as  he  leans  against  the  mon- 
strous trunk,  and  extends  his  arms  for  me  to  judge  its  width  by  them, 
appears  a  mere  manikin ;  the  smallest  tree,  one  I  had  guessed  at  four 
feet,  spreads  a  foot  or  two  on  either  side  beyond  the  natural  reach  of 
his  fingers,  and  dwarfs  him  amazingly  by  comparison.  Here  is  the 
place  for  man  to  realize  his  littleness.  In  the  evening  shades  of  these 
green  arches  how  naturally  the  mind  reverts  to  thoughts  of  the  vast, 
the  unchangeable,  the  infinite.  Heaven  itself  seems  nearer  in  our 
thoughts;  riotous  mirth  is  hushed;  solemn  awe  fills  the  soul,  and  in 
low-toned  exclamations  alone  we  briefly  converse. 

But  forty  miles  of  staging  over  bowlders  and  rocky  up-grade,  with 
dust  enough  in  us  to  start  a  second  Adam,  incline  our  party  to  think 
more  of  supper  and  bed,  than  of  the  biggest  trees  nature  can  produce. 
These  comforts,  first-class,  are  found  at  the  Big-Tree  Hotel,  and  for  a 
summer  resort  one* can  spend  weeks  very  pleasantly  there.  Daylight 
at  4.30  A.M.  shone  through  the  green  arches  with  a  new  and  wondrous 
beauty,  and  we  awoke  to  the  contemplation  of  a  new  world,  another 


THE  WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


143 


creation,  as  it  were,  where  nature  seems  to  have  proceeded  on  a  special 
plan,  too  Cyclopean  for  the  common  world  outside. 

Of  course,  the  first  object  for  to-day  is  the  great  fallen  tree  and 
stump,  the  latter  now  covered  with  a  handsome  summer-house,  and 
fitted  up  as  a  pavilion  for  dancing.  The  tree  as  it  stood  was  302  feet 
in  height,  and  96  feet  in  circumference  3  feet  from  the  ground.  But 
there  is  a  little  of  the  "brag  "  in  this  measurement,  as  most  of  these 
trees  spread  greatly  near  the  ground,  and  do  not  assume  a  symmetrical 


SOMETHING  OF  A  STUMP. 


and  tree-like  shape  before  reaching  the  height  of  ten  feet  or  more. 
The  bark  was  eighteen  inches  thick,  and  the  total  diameter  28  feet. 
Five  men  were  twenty  days  felling  it,  the  object  being  to  have  it  sawed 
into  cross-sections  to  be  shipped  eastward  and  to  Europe.  The  wprk 
was  done  Avith  long  augers,  boring  it  off  little  by  little  ;  but  when  en- 
tirely severed,  such  was  the  perfect  plumb  of  trunk  and  branches,  that, 
to  the  amazement  of  spectators,  the  tree  merely  settled  down  and  still 
stood  as  if  refusing,  conscious  of  its  majesty,  to  bow  to  human  endeav- 
ors. Vast  wedges  were  then  inserted  on  the  northern  side,  and  driven 
little  by  little  till,  heaved  beyond  the  line  of  gravity,  the  mighty 
growth  came  crashing  to  the  ground.  It  would  seem  that  nature  must 
have  yielded  an  audible  groan  at  this  desecration. 

A  bowling  alley  was  constructed  upon  the  upper  portion  of  the 
trunk,  but  not  proving  remunerative,  has  been  removed.  The  "butt 
cut"  of  the  tree  lies  as  it  fell,  the  top  reached  by  means  of  a  ladder; 


144  WESTERN   WILDS. 

then  a  large  portion  is  gone — sawn  out  in  foot  sections  and  trans- 
ported Eastward.  The  "Father  of  the  Forest/'  largest  of  all  the 
trees,  is  also  prostrate  and  slightly  buried  in  the  ground,  having 
evidently  fallen  many  years  before  the  grove  was  discovered  (1852). 
Its  circumference  at  the  base  is  110  feet;  thence  it  is  200  feet  to  the 
first  branch,  the  tree  hollow  all  that  distance,  and  through  this  tube  I 
can  easily  walk  erect.  Unlike  the  other,  it  was  evidently  much  de- 
cayed, and  was  broken  by  its  fall,  besides  breaking  down  several 
smaller  trees  with  it.  By  the  stumps  of  these  it  is  known  to  have 
been  at  least  420  feet  in  height,  and  may  have  been  considerably  more. 
Near  its  base  is  a  never-failing  spring  of  clear,  cold  water. 

"The  Mother  of  the  Forest,"  so  named  from  two  round  protuber- 
ances on  one  side,  is  the  largest  tree  now  standing.  The  bark  has 
been  removed  to  the  height  of  116  feet,  but  without  it  the  tree  is  84 
feet  in  circumferance  at  the  base.  Twenty  feet  from  the  base  it 
measures  round  69  feet,  and  thus  on,  decreasing  with  elegant  regu- 
larity to  the  height  of  321  feet,  making  this  the  most  symmetrical  of  : 
all  the  larger  trees.  And  for  this  reason  its  vastness  is  seldom  appre- 
ciated at  first  view.  In  such  fine  harmony,  the  sense  of  immensity  is 
lost.  It  is  not  until  one  has  gone  around  the  tree  many  times,  and 
viewed  it  from  different  points,  that  he  comprehends  its  grandeur. 
The  bark  was  from  ten  to  twenty-four  inches  thick,  bulging  out- 
wardly in  a  succession  of  ellipsoids  around  the  trunk ;  it  resembles  a 
mass  of  velvety  red  fibers,  and  blocks  of  it  are  in  use  all  over  the 
country  as  memorial  pin-cushions.  A  practical  lumberman  of  our 
party  estimated  that  this  tree  contained  at  least  520,000  feet  of  sound 
inch  lumber. 

Next  are  the  "  Husband  and  Wife,"  a  noble  pair  of  saplings,  each 
60  feet  around  the  base,  and  250  feet  in  height,  growing  near  and 
bending  lovingly  toward  each  other  till  their  upper  branches  are  min- 
gled in  a  dense  wooden  and  leafy  mass — a  canopy  sufficient  to  shade 
5,000  persons!  Near  by  is  the  "Burnt  Tree,"  prostrate  and  hollow, 
into  which  one  can  ride  on  horseback  for  sixty  feet.  Across  the  roots 
it  measures  39  feet,  and  from  all  indications  its  height  must  have  been 
over  300  feet.  The  "Horseback  Ride"  is  also  hollow  its  entire 
length;  in  the  narrowest  part  the  interior  is  twelve  feet  wide,  and  can 
be  traversed  from  end  to  end.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  is  a  hollow 
stump  in  which  twenty-five  persons  can  be  comfortably  seated ;  while 
near  by  the  "  Three  Sisters  "  stand  side  by  side  in  graceful  amplitude, 
each  twenty  feet  thick  and  200  feet  high,  of  exact  proportions  and 
equidistant  from  base  to  crown. 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


145 


The  trees  are  mammoth  redwoods,  assigned  by  botanists  to  a  class 
known  as  Sequoia  gigantea.  In  an  elaborate  description  written  soon 
after  discovery,  a  patriotic  English  scien- 
tist christened  them  the  Wellingionia  gi- 
gantea. This  roused  the  jealous  ire  of 
a  California  savan,  who,  in  a  ludicrous 
spasm  of  national  pride,  gave  them  the 
specific  title  of  Washingtonia  gigantea. 
But  by  common  consent  they  are  now 
known  by  the  name  first  mentioned. 
Like  all  other  timber  of  the  Taxodium 
genus,  they  are  but  little  subject  to  de- 
cay, and  the  most  impaired  of  the  fallen 
trunks  has  undoubtedly  been  prostrate 
'  for  many  hundred  years.  In  this  dry 
air,  at  an  elevation  of  3,000  feet  above 
sea-level,  with  drought  in  summer  and 
snow  in  winter,  and  only  the  light  rains 
of  spring  and  autumn,  decay  requires 
long  periods,  compared  to  which  a  human 
life  seems  practically  naught. 

We  have  gazed  long  upon   these    bo- 
tanic marvels,  and  still  new  beauties  ap- 
pear at  each  new  study ;  but  it  is  when 
we  come  to  estimate  their  age  that  amaze- 
ment reaches  its  climax,  and  we  can  truly 
compare  the  duration  of  these  monstrous 
trunks  with  man's  brief  period 
of  growth   and  decay.    The 
trees    of   this    genus   require 
twenty  years  to  increase  one 
inch   in  diameter ;  the  bark 
twice   as    long    to    gain    the 
thickness    of  a   knife-blade; 
the   timber,  in  a  drying  air, 
will    jiot    perceptibly   decay 
within  the  life-time  of  man. 
By   these    and    many  other 
signs,  more  than  all   by  the 
number  of  annular  rings,  it 
is  demonstrated  that  the  largest  of  the  Sequoias  must  be  3,000  years 


A    MONSTER. 


146  WESTERN    WILDS. 

old.  Outlasting  ninety  average  generations  of  men!  And  the  fallen 
ones  are  probably  1,000  years  older. 

And  yet  these  are  not  the  oldest  trees  in  the  world.  In  Africa 
there  grows  a  species  of  mimosa,  which,  by  the  same  indications,  is 
proved  to  be  6,000  years  old.  A  sapling  when  Adam  was  a  strip- 
ling! There  seems  to  be  no  satisfactory  theory  to  account  for  their 
growth  here.  Climate  and  fertile  soil  may  have  done  much  ;  but  I 
incline  to  the  belief  that  they  are  a  sort  of  relic  of  the  age  when 
all  vegetation  was  gigantic  ;  as  one  age  of  geology  must  have  sub- 
sided with  easy  grades  to  the  next,  we  may  have  here  the  last  vege- 
table survivors  of  the  age  just  before  us,  and  after  their  fall,  no  more 
big  trees.  Eight  miles  south  of  here  is  another  collection,  known  as 
the  South  Grove,  and  containing  1,380  trees  in  close  order,  averag- 
ing larger  than  these,  but  the  largest  a  foot  or  two  less  than  the 
largest  here.  But  we  have  seen  enough  for  the  present  to  fill  the 
mind  with  images  for  years,  and  weary  us  in  conjecture.  Time 
presses,  and  with  to-morrow's  earliest  light  we  are  off  for  Yosemite. 

From  the  Big  Trees  we  take  the  new  or  mountain  road  to  Yosemite ; 
instead  of  going  back  to  the  valley,  we  start  directly  southward  across 
Table  Mountain,  the  Stanislaus,  Tuolumne,  and  smaller  streams.  This 
route  takes  in  the  mining  and  fruit  region,  and  a  specimen  of  all  that 
has  made  California  famous.  The  Sierras  have  a  general  course  from 
north  to  south,  and  a  height  of  from  ten  to  fourteen  thousand  feet ;  and 
from  them  successive  rivers  put  out  westward,  each  in  its  upper  part 
traversing  a  mountain  gorge  or  clear-cut  canon,  which  widens  west- 
ward to  a  broad  valley  bounded  by  slopes  and  foothills  of  genial  clime 
and  rare  fertility.  Our  southward  route,  one-third  the  way  up  the 
slope  of  the  Sierras,  involves  great  variety ;  we  come  back  on  the  Big 
Tree  road  to  Vallecito,  and  there  take  a  light  wagon  to  cross  Table 
Mountain  and  the  Stanislaus.  Parenthetically,  the  names  in  this  ac- 
count are  either  Spanish  or  Indian,  and  pronounced  thus :  $<an-is-lowh, 
Val-le-cee-to,  Tu-o^-un-ny,  Mo-M-un-ny,  Gar-ro-ta,  Man-zan-ee-ta, 
Cap-i-ton,  M.er-ceed,  Cal-a-ue-ras,  and  Yo-sera-i-ta. 

From  the  brow  of  Table  Mountain  we  look  down  two  thousand  feet 
upon  the  Stanislaus,  a  narrow  silvery  band  flowing  down  a  rocky 
trough.  The  canon  wall  seems  to  stand  at  a  threatening  angle  of  sev- 
enty degrees;  but  down  this  slope  the  stage  road  goes  by  a  zig-zag, 
first  out  upon  a  projecting  shelf,  where  two  feet  farther  would  send  us 
to  destruction,  and  then  into  a  groove  in  the  rocky  wall.  Down  this 
combination  of  dips,  spurs,  angles,  and  sinuosities,  the  driver  takes  us 
at  full  trot,  with  lines  taut  and  foot  on  brake,  ready  to  check  at  a  mo- 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

ment's  notice ;  for  an  instant  moderating  to  a  walk  as  we  make  the  out- 
ward turn  on  some  rocky  flat,  then  loosing  his  team  to  a  full  run  as  we 
shoot  into  the  inward  grooves,  the  coach  bounding  over  bowlders  or  re- 
acting from  the  stone  bulwarks  which  line  the  most  dangerous  places. 
We  cringe  and  close  our  eyes  in  many  places,  or  cling  to  the  side  of  the 


YOSEMITE  FALLS. 


coach,  half  ashamed  of  the  fear  our  acts  betray ;  but  before  we  can 
question,  or  exclaim  a  dozen  times,  we  are  at  the  bottom,  and  ready  to 
ferry  the  Stanislaus.  The  narrow  band,  as  seen  from  above,  has 
widened  to  a  considerable  river,  now  quite  low ;  but  in  winter  and 
spring  the  melting  snow  from  the  notched  hills  6,000  feet  above 
swells  this  stream  to  a  destructive  torrent,  rising  fifty  feet  above  its 


148  WESTERN   WILDS. 

present  level.  On  the  south  side  another  mountain-grooved  road 
leads  up  2,500  feet  to  the  divide  between  the  Stanislaus  and  Tuo- 
lumne.  No  running  here,  but  with  slow  steps  the  steaming  horses 
drag  us  along,  and  we  lounge  back  over  the  coach  seats,  gazing  al- 
ternately at  frowning  cliffs  above  and  the  river  sinking  in  dim  per- 
spective below.  No  wonder  that  California  is  producing  a  new  race 
of  original  poets;  for,  surely,  if  a  man  have  the  poetic  instinct,  this 
clime  and  scenery  will  bring  it  out  in  tropic  luxuriance,  and  cause 
his  genius  to  put  forth  wondrous  growths  of  freshness  and  quaint 
originality.  This  society,  these  scenes  and  this  clime — Italy  and 
Switzerland  combined — are  the  true  home  of  poetry  and  romance. 

Two  hours  of  toil  bring  us  to  the  summit,  and  thence  down  a  bar- 
ren hollow  a  sudden  turn  reveals  an  oval  valley  of  rare  beauty,  in 
the  midst  of  which  is  the  pretty  town  of  Columbia,  fourteen  miles 
from  where  we  changed  coaches.  Here  we  enter  the  great  region  of 
placer  and  drift  mining,  once  alive  with  twenty  thousand  miners,  and 
musical  with  the  hum  of  an  exciting  and  curious  industry.  For  six 
miles  we  run  among  washed-out-placers,  beds  of  "  tailings "  and 
"poor  dirt;"  wind  around  sluice-boxes,  or  cross  ditches  which  lead  in 
the  water  from  a  main  canal  which  begins  fifty  miles  up  the  Stanis- 
laus. At  intervals  all  day  we  encounter  the  great  ditch  of  the 
"  Union  Water  Company,"  sometimes  winding  along  the  mountain 
side  in  rocky  flumes,  sometimes  passing  beneath  us  in  deep  cuts 
through  narrow  ridges,  and  as  often  far  above  our  heads  in  mid-air 
aqueducts — carried  on  trestlework  for  hundreds  of  feet  across  a  rocky 
hollow — to  me  a  curiosity  almost  as  great  as  any  in  the  scenery. 
This  ditch,  built  by  an  incorporated  company  at  an  expense  of  two 
million  dollars,  begins  at  the  very  head  of  the  Stanislaus,  where  that 
stream  is  formed  by  affluents  from  the  melting  snows  of  the  Sierras. 
It  is  sixty  miles  in  length,  winding  a  devious  course  to  preserve  its 
level,  along  the  mountains  and  through  gorges  down  to  the  foothills; 
furnishes  water  to  a  hundred  mining  camps,  and  at  last,  after  being- 
used,  collected,  cleared  in  reservoirs,  and  used  again  half  a  dozen 
times,  its  water,  yellow  with  the  refuse  of  pay  dirt,  or  red  with  iron 
dust,  spreads  in  a  dozen  irrigating  streams  upon  the  lower  valley. 
Careful  study  to  select  the  route,  skillful  engineering  to  lay  it 
out,  economy  of  space  and  material,  perseverance  and  capital — 
all  spurred  on  by  the  love  of  gold— combined  to  produce  the 
work. 

Mining  here  began  with  the  "  rocker,"  many  of  which  we  see  even 
now  rotting  along  the  gulches;  next  came  the  "long  torn,"  which 


THE    WONDERS  OF   CALIFORNIA. 


149 


old 


shares  the  same  fate,  and  lastly  was  introduced  "  piping "  and  com- 
plete hydraulic  raining.  Little  by  little  this  great  industry  has 
passed  away  ;  the  works  are  fallen  to  decay ;  the  placers  are  mostly 
worked  out ;  three-fourths  of  the  mining  camps  are  abandoned  ;  picks 
and  "  long  toms "  lie  among  rocks  and  debris,  and  California,  from 
an  annual  production  of 
forty  millions  in  gold,  has 
sunk  to  half  that  amount. 
"  Ranching  "  came  next,  and 
all  this  industry  is  not  lost ; 
the  flumes  and  water  are  used 
for  irrigation,  without  which 
the  smaller  vegetables  and 
fruits  are  not  a  perfect 
cess. 

Six  miles  through 
mines  bring  us  to  Sonora, 
where  we  gladly  take  a  Con- 
cord coach  for  the  rest  of 
the  trip.  Sonora  Valley, 
opening  to  the  south-west, 
enjoys  an  Italian  clime,  and 
from  February  to  December 
is  glorified  by  flowers  of  all 
hues.  Here  we  see  giant 
oleanders,  fifteen  feet  high, 
which  grow  out  doors  all  the 
year,  and  gardens  excelling 
the  utmost  flights  of  my 
fancy.  Apples,  peaches, 
pears,  apricots,  figs,  damsons,  grapes,  and  quinces  we  see  growing  lux- 
uriantly in  the  same  inclosure,  many  now  ripe,  and  affording  most 
grateful  refreshment  to  our  heated  excursionists.  All  along  the  route 
to  Yosemite  fruit  is  abundant  and  cheap — all  one  can  eat  for  ten 
cents — growing  even  to  within  half  a  day's  staging  of  the  valley. 

But  this  beauty  is  brief.  Right  beside  these  blooming  gardens, 
right  up  against  the  walls,  are  worked-out  mines,  hundreds  of  acres 
of  bare  boulders  in  beds,  all  the  soil  "  piped  "  away  in  search  of  the 
"  pay  dirt,"  which  lies  below  the  soil  and  upon  the  rocks.  A  massive 
brick  church  stands  in  the  south  part  of  the  town,  around  it  lies  an 
acre  of  ground  dotted  with  tombstones,  the  city  grave-yard,  and  up 


EL  CAPITAN. 


150  WESTERN   WILDS. 

to  the  very  walls  of  the  inclosure  the  dirt  is  washed  away  down  to  an 
unsightly  mass  of  bare,  gray  rocks,  leaving  the  church-yard  by  rare 
grace  perched  upon  an  eminence  ten  feet  above  the  placer  flats. 
There  the  rude  forefathers  of  this  mountain  hamlet — dead  miners  by 
scores — lie  in  "pay  dirt'- — fit  resting  place — and  their  living  com- 
panions seem  to  have  barely  respected  their  last  repose.  Over  all 
this  region,  with  rare  exceptions,  is  a  peculiar  air  of  abandon  and 
decay;  worked-out  placers,  deserted  cabins,  dry  flumes  and  sluice- 
boxes  falling  to  pieces,  look  as  though  the  site  were  haunted  by  the 
ghost  of  former  prosperity.  Fifteen  miles  of  comfortable  staging  in 
the  valley  of  the  Tuolumne  bring  us  to  Chinese  Camp,  originally  set- 
tled by  Mongolians  working  "  old  diggings,"  but  since  mining  gave 
place  to  agriculture,  settled  by  the  whites.  A  few  hundred  Chinese 
remain,  and  as  we  pass  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  we  note  a  rude 
"frame  tent  and  beside  it  a  dozen  China  women  chattering  and  howl- 
ing alternately,  and  learn  that  a  sick  Chinaman  has  been  removed 
there  to  die.  These  people  never  allow  one  to  die  in  their  cabins,  if 
it  can  be  decently  prevented. 

Here  we  change  again  to  the  stoutest  of  mountain  wagons;  for,  we 
are  kindly  assured,  all  the  pounding  we  have  suffered  is  child's  play 
to  what  is  to  come.  Fifteen  miles  of  stony  up-grade  bring  us  to  Gar- 
rote,  which  we  reach  at  nine  P.  M.,  and  gladly  sink  to  sleep.  It 
seems  that  we  have  but  closed  our  eyes  to  half  forget  in  sleep  the 
beauties  or  toils  of  the  way,  when  at  three  A.  M.  the  call  comes  to  take 
a  fresh  start.  We  take  the  invariable  "  eye-opener  "  of  ice-cooled  Cal- 
ifornia white  wine,  and  after  a  hasty  breakfast  are  off  into  a  dense 
forest,  the  daylight  breaking  grandly  through  the  green  arches  and 
casting  great  scallops  of  light  and  shade  to  cheer  the  still  sleepy  trav- 
elers. We  are  out  of  the  foothills,  and  upon  the  spurs  of  the  mount- 
ains. The  streams  are  clear  as  crystal  and  delightfully  cold,  for  we 
are  far  above  the  mining  districts  and  near  their  snowy  sources. 

Vast  forests  of  redwoods  and  sugar  pine,  the  trees  from  two  to  eight 
feet  in  thickness,  shade  the  way.  At  every  pause  we  hear  a  strange, 
solemn  murmur  from  far  above  our  heads,  a  gentle  swell  as  the  mount- 
ain breeze  thrills  the  tree  tops,  like  the  far-off  diapason  of  a  mon- 
strous organ,  or  a  gentle  tremulo  stealing  upon  the  senses  with  a 
music  all  the  more  subtle  that  it  can  not  be  described.  My  compan- 
ion, Mr.  J.  W.  Bookwalter,  of  Springfield,  Ohio,  compares  the  scenery 
to  that  of  a  Florida  forest  of  a  winter  morning.  One  by  one  all  who 
started  with  us  have  stopped  to  rest,  but  being  old  travelers,  we  have 
held  on,  and  to-day  have  the  coach  to  ourselves. 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA.  151 

Before  noon  we  enter  the  Tuolumne  Grove,  where  many  trees  are  as 
large  as  the  average  at  Calaveras,  but  none  within  less  than  two  or 
three  feet  of  the  largest  there.  Over  all  this  part  of  the  Sierras,  prob- 
ably forty  miles  each  way,  the  timber  is  immense.  We  drive  between 
two  trees,  each  twenty  feet  in  thickness.  We  find  one  stump  forty 
feet  high  and  twenty-six  feet  thick,  and  hundreds  scattered  for  miles 
along  the  way  from  ten  to  eighteen  feet  thick,  and  from  two  hundred 
to  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  If  the  traveler  does  not  wish  to 
make  the  diversion  by  Calaveras  Grove,  he  can  still  enjoy  the  sight 
of  tall  timber  here,  on  the  direct  route  to  Yosemite.  Thirty- 
seven  miles  from  Garrote  bring  us  to  Tamarack  Flat,  the  highest  point 
on  the  road,  the  end  of  staging,  and  no  wonder.  The  remaining  five 
miles  down  into  the  valley  must  be  made  on  horseback. 

While  transferring  baggage — very  little  is  allowed — to  pack-mules, 
the  guide  and  driver  amuse  us  with  accounts  of  former  tourists,  partic- 
ularly, of  Anna  Dickinson,  who  rode  astride  into  the  valley,  and 
thereby  demonstrated  her  right  to  vote,  drink  "  cocktails/  bear  arms, 
and  work  the  roads,  without  regard  to  age,  sex,  or  previous  condition 
of  servitude.  They  tell  us  with  great  glee  of  Olive  Logan,  who, 
when  told  she  must  ride  thus  into  the  valley,  tried  practising  on  the 
back  of  the  coach  seats,  and  when  laughed  at  for  her  pains,  took  her 
revenge  by  savagely  abusing  every  thing  on  the  road.  When  Mrs. 
Cady  Stanton  was  here  a  few  weeks  before,  she  found  it  impossible  to 
fit  herself  to  the  saddle,  averring  she  had  not  been  in  one  for  thirty 
years.  Our  accomplished  guide,  Mr.  F.  A.  Brightman,  saddled  seven 
different  mules  for  her  (she  states  the  fact  in  her  report),  and  still 
she  would  not  risk  it,  and  "while  the  guides  laughed  behind  their 
horses,  and  even  the  mules  winked  knowingly,  and  shook  their  long 
ears  comically,  still  she  stood  a  spectacle  for  men  and  donkeys."  In 
vain  the  skillful  Brightman  assured  her  he  had  piloted  five  thousand 
persons  down  that  fearful  incline,  and  not  an  accident.  She  would 
not  be  persuaded,  and  walked  the  entire  distance,  equal  to  twenty 
miles  on  level  ground. 

While  we  pause,  a  brief  note  on  the  route  is  in  order.  From  Mil- 
ton, by  way  of  the  Big  Trees  to  Yosemite,  is  150  miles;  and  from 
Yosemite  back  by  Chinese  Camp  direct  is  109  miles,  making  a  total 
of  staging  of  259  miles.  Add  100  by  rail  going  to  Milton,  and 
twenty  by  rail  and  100  by  steamer  returning,  and  we  have  a  total  of 
220  by  rail  and  steamer,  and  a  grand  total  of  479  miles  in  going 
and  return.  For  all  this  we  pay  the  moderate  price  of  forty-six  dol- 
lars per  man.  To  this  must  be  added  three  dollars  per  day  for  nee- 


152 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


essaries  upon  the  road,  and  the  same  for  each  day  in  the  valley  for 
guide  and  horse ;  that  is,  if  you  go  to  see  all  that  is  there,  and  if 
you  do  not,  you  had  better  not  go  at  all.  But  hundreds  of  visitors 
never  go  out  of  the  little  open  flat  around  the  hotel,  contenting  them- 
selves with  a  general  view  of  distant  wonders.  Horace  Greeley, 
when  he  visited  the  valley,  rode  sixty  miles  on  horseback,  though  he 
had  not  been  in  a  saddle  for  twenty  years,  reach- 
ing the  hotel  at  midnight  completely  exhausted, 
and  minus  at  least  two  square  feet  of  abraded 
cuticle.  He  went  supperless  to  bed,  and  having 

an    engage- 
ba*          '  '~' 


ment  to  fill, 
left  at  noon 
next  day,  and 
the  second 
night  there- 
after lectured 
at  a  town 
nearly  two 
hundred  miles 
away.  When 
the  railroad 
is  completed 
southward  to 
the  Merced,  it 
i  s  estimated 
that  a  first- 
class  stage- 
road  could  be 
built  from  the 
crossing  right 
up  the  Mer- 
ced  to  the 
Yosemite,  for 

$100,000,  and  certainly  the  State  could  not  make  a  better  investment. 
The  road  would  have  to  be  blasted  out  of  the  foot  of  the  cliffs  along 
the  gateway,  where  the  Merced  flows  out  of  Yosemite ;  below,  the 
grade  would  not  be  difficult,  and  it  would  save  two-thirds  of  the  wear 
at  present  required.  All  that  man  can  do  has  been  done  on  the 
present  route,  and  still  the  trip  is  very  exhausting. 

With  all  set  and  every  thing  tightly  "cinched,"  we  took  the  start 


BRIDAL  VEIL  FALL. 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA.  153 

with  guide  in  front,  finding  the  first  mile  and  a  half  to  Prospect 
Peak  not  particularly  difficult.  A  sudden  turn  brings  us  in  view  of 
the  valley,  but  little  is  to  be  seen  as  yet;  then  we  emerge  from  the 
timber  upon  a  shelving  rock,  and  the  guide  stops  for  us  to  take  our 
first  view  at  Prospect  Peak.  We  walked  out  upon  the  rock,  which 
becomes  level  as  we  near  the  edge,  with  a  feeling  of  disappointment ; 
but  suddenly,  when  far  enough  to  see  below,  we  paused  and  trem- 
bled. Astonishment  and  awe  kept  us  silent  for  a  moment.  At  our 
feet  yawned  a  chasm  bounded  on  this  side  by  a  precipice  with  sheer 
descent  of  near  two  thousand  feet ;  on  the  other  a  mist-enveloped 
cascade  poured  from  heights  so  high  and  dim,  that  to  our  eyes  it 
seemed  tumbling  from  the  clouds.  Far,  far  below,  the  Merced 
foamed  through  the  rocky  gateway  which  forms  the  outlet  of  the  val- 
ley, while  the  whole  wall  below  us  seemed  fringed  with  pines,  jut- 
ting from  every  crevice,  and  growing  apparently  straight  into  the  air 
from  the  solid  wall  of  rock. 

We  turn  again  to  the  left  into  a  sort  of  stairway  in  the  mountain 
side,  and  cautiously  tread  the  stony  defile  downward;  at  places  over 
loose  boulders,  at  others  around  or  over  the  points  of  shelving  rock, 
where  one  false  step  would  send  horse  and  rider  a  mangled  mass  two 
thousand  feet  below,  and  more  rarely  over  ground  covered  with 
bushes  and  grade  moderate  enough  to  afford  a  brief  rest.  It  is  im- 
possible to  repress  fear.  Every  nerve  is  tense;  the  muscles  involun- 
tarily make  ready  for  a  spring,  and  even  the  bravest  lean  timorously 
toward  the  mountain  side  and  away  from  the  cliff,  with  foot  loose  in 
stirrup  and  eye  alert,  ready  for  a  spring  in  case  of  peril.  The  thought 
is  vain :  should  the  horse  go,  the  rider  would  infallibly  go  with  him. 
And  the  poor  brutes  seem  to  fully  realize  their  danger  and  ours,  as 
with  wary  steps  and  tremulous  ears,  emitting  almost  human  sighs, 
with  more  than  brute  caution  they  deliberately  place  one  foot  before 
the  other,  calculating  seemingly  at  each  step  the  desperate  chances, 
and  intensely  conscious  of  our  mutual  peril.  We  learn  with  surprise 
that  of  all  the  thousands  who  have  made  this  passage,  not  one  has 
been  injured.  Such  a  route  would  be  impassable  to  any  horse  but 
these  mountain-trained  mustangs,  to  whom  a  broken  stone  staircase 
would  be  as  safe  as  a  macadamized  road. 

At  last  comes  a  gentler  slope,  then  a  crystal  spring,  dense  grove 
and  grassy  plat,  and  we  are  down  into  the  valley.  Gladly  we  take 
the  stage,  and  are  whirled  along  in  the  gathering  twilight.  To  our 
right,  Bridal  Vail  Fall,  shedding  a  brilliant  sheen  in  the  twilight; 
further  up  Inspiration  Point,  and  to  the  left  El  Capitan  rearing  his 


154  WESTERN   WILDS. 

bare,  bald  head  3,300  feet  above  us,  beautifully,  purely  gray,  in  clear 
outline  against  the  rosy  sky.  Darkness  shuts  out  all  beauty  by  the 
time  we  reach  Hutehings'  Hotel,  and  we  gladly  sink  to  rest,  with  little 
thought  of  the  wonderland  we  are  in. 

We  rise  to  view  a  new  creation,  as  it  seems — a  rift  in  the  earth  five 
miles  long  and  nearly  two  miles  wide  in  the  center,  walled  in  by  ever- 
during  granite.  Here  is  a  minor  cosmos,  where  nature  seems  to  have 
proceeded  on  a  more  extensive  plan,  as  if  determined  to  outdo  all  in 
the  outer  world  of  common-place.  A  forenoon  we  give  to  rest  and 
gazing,  for  there  is  enough  to  be  seen  for  that  time  from  the  porch  of 
the  hotel.  After  noon  we  start  out  northward,  to  the  foot  of  Yosem- 
ite  Falls,  one  and  a  half  miles  from  us.  The  cliffs  in  front  rise 
nearly  3,000  feet  above  us,  and  all  along  the  perpendicular  wall  we 
see  the  marks  of  ancient  glaciers  and  waves  wearing  smooth  the  rocky 
face ;  but  above,  where  first  the  peaks  rose  from  the  sea  of  primal 
chaos,  rough  and  frowning  battlements  attest  the  violence  of  the  rent 
which  divided  this  from  the  southern  side.  About  half  way  up  the 
cliff  is  a  small  offset,  where  grows  a  beautiful  pine,  with  branch  and 
foliage  forming  a  perfect  cone,  seeming  like  the  larger  growth  of  orna- 
mental shrubbery.  Yet  that  shrub  is  a  monster  tree  160  feet  high, 
and  above  it  the  perpendicular  cliff  is  just  eleven  times  its  height. 
Go  into  the  forests  of  Ohio  or  Indiana  and  select  the  tallest  tree,  and 
remember  that  the  upper  division  merely  of  Yosemite  Fall  is  at  least 
ten  times  that  height!  Or  imagine  ten  Niagaras  piled  one  above 
another. 

A  thick  forest  of  pines  and  firs  fills  the  center  of  the  valley,  and 
through  it  we  follow  up  the  bed,  now  almost  dry,  of  Yosemite  Creek, 
the  bowlders  increasing  regularly  in  size  as  we  proceed,  until  at  last 
the  way  is  blocked  by  vast  masses  of  granite,  hurled,  as  in  Titanic 
war,  from  the  cliffs  above.  The  immense  wall  gives  back,  leaving  an 
inlet  into  the  mountain,  the  sides  of  which,  like  buttresses,  approach 
each  other  at  a  sharp  angle,  and  down  one  side  of  this  inlet  pours  the 
Yosemite,  now  shrunk  to  a  mere  rill.  But  in  May  and  June  the 
congealed  floods,  on  heights  5,000  feet  above,  are  loosed  and  fill  the 
high  flume  with  a  raging  torrent.  Then  great  liquid  volumes  fall 
from  the  first  height,  1,600  feet,  strike  and  break  to  a  thousand 
splintered  streams,  lacing  all  the  second  fall  for  400  feet  with  daz- 
zling lines  of  foam ;  then  gather  in  another  flume,  take  another 
plunge,  and  rebounding  from  the  cliff  in  a  million  comminuted 
streams,  roar  into  the  basin  below.  Large  logs  from  the  mountain 
forests  plunge  a  thousand  feet  without  check  and  splinter  into  frag- 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


155 


raents,  but  sometimes  pass  entire,  and  with  many  tumblings  are 
drifted  far  down  the  plain.  The  three  divisions  of  the  fall  are,  re- 
spectively, sixteen  hundred,  four  hundred  and  thirty-four,  and  six 
hundred  and  thirty-three  feet,  making  the  total  fall  two  thousand  six 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  feet.  Climbing  for  two  hours,  we  reach  the 
highest  accessible  ledge,  inscribe  our  names,  and  return. 

A  cool  evening  follows,  and  on  the  porch  at  Hutchings'  I  rest 
and  gaze  and 
think.  To  the 
north-west  is 
El  Cap  it  an, 
glorified  in  the 
s  o  f  t  moon- 
light; oppo- 
site Yosemite 
Fall,  to  the 
right,  the 
Royal  Arches, 
and  all  around 
the  monster 
battlements 
with  shrubby 
fringe,  till  we 
seem  walled  in 
far  down  in 
the  depths  of 
earth,  and  in- 
voluntarily 
ask :  What  if 
ancient  order 
suddenly  re- 
turn, and  these 
cliffs  again 
unite,  as  sci- 
ence tells  us 

they  were  once  united?  What  ages  of  cosmic  process  were  re- 
quired to  bring  about  this  wondrous  combination  which  I  can  sur- 
vey in  one  quick  glance;  what  infinite  forces,  working  silently  in 
God's  laboratory  for  inconceivable  ages,  produced  all  this  scene  my  eye 
can  sweep  over  in  ten  seconds?  What  ages;  what  unending  aeons  of 
duration — an  immensity  clipped  out  of  eternity — were  required  to 


SENTINEL    ROCK. 


156  WESTERN   WILDS. 

perfect  this  work?  Can  the  mind  with  utmost  stretch  revert  to  a 
period  when  all  was  ethereal,  gaseous ;  when  earth  was  a  nebulous 
mass ;  when  Cosmos  first  had  being — then  the  time  required  for  it  to 
become  a  molten  mass ;  the  ages  thence  to  solidity — the  first  crust — 
the  shrinking,  the  ridging,  the  upheaval ;  then  the  earthquake  wave 
which  rent  these  cliffs  asunder;  then  the  convulsions  lasting  through 
millions  of  years,  and  ending  in  the  mighty  subsidence  in  the  bottom 
of  this  fissure  crevice!  Then  came  the  age  of  erosion,  the  glaciers 
successively  writing  their  history  on  these  rocky  tablets ;  the  ages  of 
wear  required  to  polish  smooth  these  granite  walls,  and  symmetrize 
the  facings  of  the  cliffs.  At  last  came  the  age  of  disintegration,  of 
mold,  of  soil,  of  growth,  of  animals,  and  last  of  all  man — the  last  by 
all  reasoning  the  shortest. 

The  next  day  is  set  for  the  great  excursion  to  Mirror  Lake  and 
Nevada  and  Vernal  Falls;  and,  after  a  hasty  breakfast,  we  are  off 
for  the  most  toilsome  and  yet  most  enjoyable  day  to  be  spent  in  the 
valley.  Saddles  are  carefully  set,  and  mules  "  cinched "  with  these 
mountain  girths,  eight  inches  wide,  until  it  seems  they  can  scarcely 
breathe ;  for  we  are  to  have  perils  of  water  and  mountain — perils  by 
the  way.  We  cross  the  crystal  Merced,  of  deceitful  depth — it  looks 
four  feet  and  is  really  ten — and  lively  with  mountain  trout,  in  front 
of  the  hotel,  and  take  our  way  eastward  up  the  valley,  with  the 
Royal  Arches  to  our  left.  In  some  convulsions  past,  the  granite  has 
fallen  from  the  north  side  in  successive  sections  in  such  shape  as  to 
form  the  likeness  of  five  great  arches,  one  within  the  other,  half  a 
mile  long  from  west  to  east,  and  rising  in  the  center  1,500  feet. 

Standing  on  the  northern  shore  of  Mirror  Lake,  we  view,  reflected 
in  the  lake  from  right  to  left,  South  Dome,  Old  Man  of  the  Mount- 
ains, Cloud's  Rest,  Mount  Watkins,  and  the  Watch  Eye,  all  notable 
and  noble  peaks  upon  the  south  side,  rising  from  2,000  to  4,000  feet 
above  the  cliffs  that  bound  the  valley.  Crossing  in  a  skiff  to  the 
south  side,  we  see,  reflected  from  the  north,  Mount  Washington, 
Mount  Calhoun,  and  the  far-reaching  wall  of  the  lower  valley.  The 
lake  is  a  great  crystal  map  of  all  the  adjacent  hills  and  cliffs,  beau- 
tiful only  because  of  beautiful  surroundings,  not  remarkable  in  itself, 
but  dazzling  by  reflection  of  greater  glories. 

From  Mirror  Lake  we  come  back  on  the  same  trail  a  little  way, 
then  straight  south  across  the  valley  till  we  are  directly  under  the 
southern  cliff,  which,  instead  of  being  perpendicular,  here  overhangs, 
and  seems  momentarily  to  threaten  destruction ;  then  eastward  up 
what  may  be  called  the  main  branch  of  the  Merced  to  the  head  of 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA.  157 

the  valley.  The  smaller  branch  comes  in  from  the  north-east,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  North  Dome  and  the  Cap  of  Liberty — the  last  a 
wondrous  cone,  rising  directly  from  the  north  cliff,  1,000  feet  of 
beautiful  yellow  and  smooth  rock,  completely  inaccessible.  The 
south-east  branch  of  the  Merced  plunges  down  from  its  source  in 


•NORTH  DOME  AND  ROYAL  ARCHES. 


the  ice-peaks  by  two  magnificent  cataracts,  Nevada  and  Vernal  Falls, 
and  a  series  of  beautiful  rapids  and  cascades  between  them.  But 
there  is  no  reaching  the  foot  of  the  lower  fall  on  horseback ;  we 
are  to  return  by  it  from  above,  down  a  perilous  stairway,  and  now 
must  make  a  wide  detour  to  scale  the  cliff,  or  first  offset,  which  frowns 
2,000  feet  above  us. 

No  possible  passage  is  visible  to  our  unaccustomed  eyes ;  the  side 
seems  almost  perpendicular,  and  when  the  guide  tells  us  we  are  to 
"go  up  there,"  pointing  with  his  finger  at  an  angle  of  eighty  to  a  flat 
projecting  peak — seeming  to  our  vision  half  way  to  the  sky — we  shake 
our  heads  incredulously.  "But  I  have  piloted  two  thousand  people 
Up  there,"  says  the  confident  Brightman,  and  we  are  reassured  and 
follow  him.  I  dare  not  venture  on  a  description;  even  now  I  can 
shut  my  eyes,  see  it  all,  and  shudder. 

Imagine  the  route  in,  with  all  its  difficulties  doubled,  and  going  up 
instead  of  down,  and  some  faint  idea  may  be  formed.  Here,  we  are 
told,  there  has  been  one  accident.  Three  weeks  before  a  saddle,  not 
carefully  girted,  slipped  back,  and  the  mule  straightway  went  to 
"bucking;"  the  rider  jumped  off  on  the  upper  side,  and  the  mule 
undertook  to  run  down  the  mountain,  but  soon  lost  his  footing  and 
went  rolling  from  rock  to  rock,  till  ricocheting  one  hundred  feet  from 


158  ,     WESTERN   WILDS. 

one  offset,  he  fell  upon  the  next  flat,  with  every  bone  splintered,  and 
his  flesh  reduced  to  a  jelly.  Two  hours  climbing  bring  us  to  the 
level  above  the  Vernal,  and  turning  a  sharp  rocky  point,  we  come  in 
sight  of  Nevada  Falls,  the  largest  and  highest  continuous  fall.  The 
approach  here  is  easy,  and  we  are  soon  at  its  foot.  Rushing  down  a 
rocky  flume  from  heights  four  thousand  feet  above  and  miles  away ; 
the  Merced  comes  clear  as  alcohol  to  the  edge,  and  takes  the  first 
plunge,  four  hundred  feet  clear;  then  dashes  against  the  rocks,  re- 
bounding in  comminuted  foam  of  dazzling  white;  then  collecting 
again  to  a  hundred  tiny  streams,  it  is  off  at  last  from  the  rocky  face  in 
filmy  slanting  lines  of  cloud  and  foam,  transparent  mists  so  delicately 
flowing  downward  that  one  can  scarcely  say  they  move.  The  silvery 
sheen,  like  a  hanging  crystal- web,  is  lifted  by  the  wind,  swaying  now 
against  the  rocks,  and  now  far  out  over  the  valley;  then,  in  a  mo- 
mentary calm,  falls  back  to  break  into  a  thousand  transparent  fluted 
sections,  gliding  downward  over  the  rocks  in  ever  unfolding,  ever  re- 
newing liquid  lawn. 

Suddenly  the  howitzer  is  fired  from  the  Mountain  House  across  the 
gulch.  The  echo  breaks  sharply  upon  us  from  our  side,  and  returns 
from  Cloud's  Rest  on  the  north ;  then  seems  to  die  away  amid  peaks 
and  hollows,  but  suddenly  breaks  again  upon  the  startled  ear;  then 
repeats  in  slow  declining  reports  from  peak,  cliff,  and  point,  again  to 
renew  and  again  die  away  in  a  thousand  repetitions  of  splintered 
sound.  The  effect  of  these  sights  upon  different  persons  is  a  curious 
study.  The  noisy  are  still,  the  garrulous  silent,  and  even  the  least 
profound  are  awed  to  a  solemn  reverence  with  something  akin  to  fear. 

After  a  frugal  dinner  at  the  Mountain  House — every  thing  has  to  be 
carried  thither  on  mules — we  come  down  by  the  hand-rail  beside 
Vernal  Falls,  while  Brightman  returns  the  mules  by  the  other  route 
as  far  as  Registry  Rock,  the  first  point  where  we  can  meet  him. 
Piwyack — "cataract  of  diamonds" — as  the  Indians  call  it,  well  de- 
serves the  name ;  though  known  by  the  whites  as  Vernal  Falls,  from 
the  beautiful  emerald  tints  it  displays.  It  consists  of  one  clear  fall  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  and  is  accessible  at  more  points  than  any 
other  fall  in  the  valley.  The  water  starts  from  the  cliff  in  two  great 
rocky  flumes,  twenty  feet  wide,  and  perhaps  a  foot  in  depth ;  but  long 
before  reaching  the  bottom  is  utterly  broken  into  minutest  fragments, 
and  rolled  into  one  great  airy  sheet  of  foam ;  snow-white  and  dazzling, 
bordered  apparently  by  pearl-dust,  it  seems  a  column  of  cloud  break- 
ing upon  the  rocks  to  light  surf  and  starry  crystals.  As  the  foam 
floats  upward  the  sky  clears  suddenly,  and  the  sun  pours  a  flood  of 


THE  WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


159 


bright  rays  into  the  gorge  ;  the  dropping  lines  of  emerald  take  on  a 

brighter  tint,  and  a  rainbow  in  five  concentric  rings  springs  upon  the 

sight.     The  wind  sways  back   the   gauzy  column;  the  penciled  rays 

lose  their  exact  focus;  the  rainbows  break  into  two,  four,  eight,  an  in- 

finite division  of  iridic  tints,  and  the  whole  presents  a  luminous  aure- 

ole a  hundred  feet  in  diameter  :  another  draft  of  air,  and  we  have  a 

dissolving  view  ;  then  a  lull, 

and  back  swings  the  fleecy 

foaming  column  in  two  bod- 

ies, and  twice  the  number  of 

circling     rainbows     delight 

the   eye.     Back   comes    the 

Avind,  and  away  swings  the 

watery     column,     bringing 

again   the  double  breaking 

lines  of  iridic  tints  ;  the  eye 

is    relieved    by     new    pris- 

matic combinations,  and  the 

overwrought    senses   roused 

to     new    delight    by    fresh 

showers    of   more   brilliant 

constellations. 

The  stairways  about  Ver- 
nal Falls  are  well  arranged, 
and  the  steps  hewn  in  the 
rock  afford  many  favorable 
points  to  view  the  entire 
fall.  Gladly  would  we  have 
lingered  here,  but  the  ap- 

proach of  evening  called  us  away  while  our  en- 
joyment was  still  at  its  height. 

The  hours  of  rest  pass  pleasantly  at  our  hotel 
on  the  banks  of  the  pellucid  Merced.  The  in- 
habitants are  only  second  in  interest  to  the 
valley.  In  1862,  Mr.  J.  M.  Hutchings  walked  in, 
and  pre-empted  the  land  where  his  hotel  now 
stands.  Years  ago  he  came  in  on  snow-shoes  to 
see  if  the  valley  was  habitable  in  winter,  and  soon  after  moved  his 
family  in.  From  May  till  October  all  is  lively  in  the  valley,  then  a 
gloom,  born  of  perfect  isolation,  settles  upon  the  place;  and  the  few 
who  winter  through  are  as  completely  cut  off  as  one  can  imagine. 


FALLS,  TOO  feet 


160 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


Once  a  month  or  so,  an  Indian  works  his  way  down  the  south  slope  on 
snow  shoes,  bringing  in  mail  and  taking  out  reports  from  the  impris- 
oned. With  three  hotels,  saw  mill,  and  two  ranches,  some  fifty  per- 
sons reside  in  the  valley.  There  is  a  saloon,  billiard-hall,  bathing- 
rooms,  barber  shop,  and  reading-room  ;  and  the  general  arrangements 
are  such  that  one  could  spend  the  summer  there  very  pleasantly. 

Want  of  space 
forbids  a  fuller 
account  of  the 
sights  upon  the 
southern  cliffs :  of 
Pohono — "  Spirit 
of  the  Evil 
Wind  »  _  called 
by  the  whites 
Bridal  Vail,  a 
tiny  stream  with 
a  fall  of  over 
nine  hundred 
and  forty  feet ; 
of  Lung-oo-too- 
koo-ya — "  Long 
and  Slender  " — 
or  the  Ribbon 
Fall,  amounting 
in  different  cas- 
cades to  3,300 
feet ;  of  Tis-sa- 
ack  —  "  Goddess 
of  the  Valley" 
— or  the  South 

Dome ;  or  of  Tu-lool-we-ack — "  The  Terrible " — the  wild,  craggy 
gorge  of  South  Canon.  Nor  is  my  pen  equal  to  the  task  of  doing 
justice  to  Tu-toch-ah-nu-la— "  Great  Chief  of  the  Valley"— or  El 
Capitan,  rising  at  something  more  than  a  perpendicular,  leaning 
over  the  valley,  to  an  elevation  of  3,300  feet;  nor  to  Wah-wah- 
le-na — "The  Three  Graces" — whose  heads  shine  from  a  height  of 
3,750  feet.  All  that  the  utmost  stretch  of  fancy  can  picture  of  the 
giant-like,  the  colossal  and  Cyclopean,  is  but  a  shadowy  conception 
of  this  immense  reality.  No  description  has  ever  been  written. 
None  can  be  written  on  this  earth.  The  subject  is  beyond  the  prov- 


VEKNAL  FALLS. 


THE   WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


161 


ince  of  mere  word-painting.     A  man  must  die  and  learn  the  language 
of  the  angels  before  he  can  describe  Yosemite. 

The  return  route,  all  the  way  down  hill,  was  as  rough  as  the  going, 
but  took  less  than  half  the  time.  We  found  four  changes  of  climate. 
From  the  cool  Sierras  to  the  hot  valley  was  a  trial  of  endurance.  Tak- 
ing the  steamer  at  Stockton,  we  were  soon  down  among  the  tules  on 


MIRROR    LAKE. 


the  San  Joaquin.  At  3  P.  M.,  the  thermometer  stood  at  100°;  at 
dusk,  on  the  river,  it  was  just  pleasantly  cool;  we  woke  next  morning 
at  the  San  Francisco  wharf,  where  the  cold  sea-breeze  made  over- 
coats a  necessity.  The  seasons  are  all  mixed  up  in  that  city.  August 
is  the  coldest  (to  one's  feelings)  and  September  the  warmest  month 
in  the  year.  There  is  no  perceptible  difference  between  January 
and  June.  Ladies  wear  furs  in  July  and  August,  then  lay  them  off 
till  November.  The  changes  in  the  ocean-winds  account  for  this 
paradox. 

A  day  in  August  is  a  miniature  copy  of  the  seasons,  except  that  no 
snow  falls  to  represent  the  hard  winter  of  the  East.  We  rise  at  7  A. 
M.,  to  a  balmy  early  spring  morning ;  if  very  hardy,  even  a  visitor 
can  go  without  a  summer  overcoat;  but,  to  stand  around  the  streets. 

I  find  it  more  pleasant  to  wear  mine.     The  rising  sun  scatters  the 
11 


162  WESTERN    WILDS. 

light,  fleecy  clouds,  and  shines  out  with  some  fervor,  and  by  10  A.  M., 
I  take  off  my  overcoat,  for  a  mild  summer  has  set  in.  This  continues 
with  beautiful  steadiness  until  2  or  3  P.  M. ;  then  the  thermometer  falls 
about  five  degrees  very  suddenly,  as  the  afternoon  fog  comes  rolling 
over  the  city.  November  continues  from  4  till  7  P.  M.,  at  which  time 
regular  winter  sets  in.  It  is,  in  reality,  only  eight  or  ten  degrees 
colder  than  at  noon,  but  the  change  makes  it  seem  to  me  like  Decem- 
ber. I  button  tight  my  overcoat,  slap  my  fingers  vigorously,  and  ex- 
ercise till  I  get  acclimated;  then  take  a  hearty  dinner,  and  two  cups 
of  hot  coffee,  put  on  my  muffler,  and  go  out  for  an  evening  view  of 
this  most  cosmopolitan  of  cities :  first  to  the  Chinese  Theater,  and  then 
in  turn  to  all  the  local  oddities. 

The  beauty  of  Sunday  afternoon  tempted  us  to  accept  the  local  cus- 
tom and  use  that  day  for  an  excursion  to  the  Cliff  House.  It  stands 
on  the  opposite,  that  is,  the  western  side,  of  the  peninsula,  about 
four  miles  from  the  main  part  of  the  city.  Whirling  along  through 
the  sand-hills,  on  which  I  noted  a  plentiful  supply  of  two  old  Utah 
acquaintances — sagebrush  and  greasewood — a  sudden  turn  to  the  left 
gave  a  free  outlook  towards  the  West ;  there  I  took  my  first  view  of 
the  Pacific,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  upon  the  seaward  porch  of  the 
Cliff  House. 

The  day  was  calm  and  almost  cloudless;  the  sight  westward  free 
even  to  the  meeting  of  sea  and  sky ;  the  blue  vault,  and  the  soft  air 
of  the  Pacific,  were  over  and  around  us ;  to  the  right  the  Golden  Gate 
opened  into  the  bay ;  while  below  us,  and  far  down  the  coast,  the  white 
surf  was  breaking  upon  the  shore,  with  that  sublime  music  which  has 
been  the  delight  and  the  despair  of  poets  since  the  poluphloisboio  of 
Homer.  The  house  stands  upon  a  projecting  rock,  some  forty  feet 
above  the  waves,  which  beat  incessantly  upon  the  jagged  points  below, 
and  at  times  even  dash  their  light  spray  into  the  faces  of  those  upon 
the  seaward  porch.  Apparently  a  hundred  yards  out — really  three 
times  as  far — stands  the  cluster  of  rocks  which  are  the  resort  of  the 
sea-lions.  They  were  there  in  numbers,  not  playing  in  the  waves  as 
sometimes,  but  lying  in  groups  upon  the  top  of  the  rocks,  their  deep, 
hollow  bark  mingling  with  the  roar  of  the  surf.  A  lone  rock,  a  little 
further  out,  is  covered  in  the  same  way  with  gulls,  visitors  not  being 
allowed  to  fire  at  either. 

Below  the  Cliff  House  a  road,  cut'  into  the  rock  and  walled  on 
the  side  next  the  ocean,  leads  down  to  a  sandy  beach  below,  where 
the  hills  recede  from  the  shore.  A  long  salt  marsh,  easily  forded, 
is  shut  off  from  the  ocean  by  a  sand  "spit,"  on  which  is  a  firm  and 


THE    WONDERS  OF  CALIFORNIA.  163 

excellent  drive,  even  to  the  edge  of  the  surf.  Taken  altogether, 
this  may  be  called  the  Long  Branch  of  the  AVest. 

As  the  afternoon  drew  on,  while  we  were  watching  the  gambols 
of  the  sea-lions,  which  had  aroused  to  unusual  activity,  the  air  sud- 
denly grew  dim,  the  rocks  appeared  to  recede,  the  view  of  the  ocean 
was  shut  off,  and  a  dense  bank  of  fog  came  rolling  inland,  while 
long  lines  of  mist  spread  over  the  hills  and  went  creeping  through 
the  hollows  towards  the  city.  By  4  P.  M.,  the  breeze  was  coming 
in  strong  from  the  ocean ;  the  air,  which  three  hours  before  was 
quite  warm,  grew  uncomfortably  chilly,  and  the  crowd  turned  to- 
wards town.  Reaching  Montgomery  Street,  we  found  it  dark  with 
fog  and  mist,  and  a  damp  cold  night  set  in  where  the  morning  had 
been  so  bright  and  warm. 

A  week  was  scant  time  to  see  and  enjoy  San  Francisco,  but  the 
mines  of  Utah  were  fast  rising  into  importance,  and  demanded  a 
historian ;  my  old  friends  called  for  me,  and  I  regretfully  left  the 
Pacific  coast  for  the  very  unpacific  Territory. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

UTAH    ARGENTIFERA. 

THE  Gentiles  were  all  talking  of  silver  mines;  the  Mormons  of 
"persecution  of  the  Saints"  and  "God's  wrath  at  the  wicked  Gentile 
government."  Chief-Justice  McKean  had  ruled  all  the  Mormon  offi- 
cials out  of  the  District  Court,  and  made  the  United  States  Marshal 
the  ministerial  officer ;  the  latter  had  selected  non-Mormon  grand 
juries  who  were  ferreting  out  all  the  crimes  committed  by  the  Saints 
in  the  old  "  blood-atonement  era."  Lawsuits  as  to  mining  titles 
doubled  and  redoubled.  The  District  Court  at  Salt  Lake  City,  which 
formerly  finished  the  term  in  two  weeks,  now  sat  ten  months  in  the 
year;  one-half  its  time  settling  titles  to  mines,  the  other  half  trying 
Mormon  criminals.  Five  indictments  were  pending  against  Brigham 
Young;  a  hundred  Latter-day  Saints  were  under  arrest,  or  hiding  in 
the  mountains.  Money  by  tens  of  thousands  was  pouring  in  to  pur- 
chase silver  lodes ;  every  body  swore  by  the  Emma  Mine  which  had 
given  the  Territory  such  a  reputation.  Every  miner  expected  a  for- 
tune; many  Gentiles  looked  forward  to  the  early  overthrow  of  Brig- 
ham.  There  was  no  little  bird  to  whisper  "  Schenck — Stewart — 
Trainor  Park — Baron  Grant,"  or  hint  that  before  twelve  months  the 
Supreme  Court  would  upset  the  Utah  Judiciary.  There  were  visions 
of  \vealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice,  of  monstrous  lodes  of  silver 
ore,  of  a  Territory  redeemed  ;  the  Gentile  speculator  rode  on  the  crest 
of  a  swelling  wave,  and  smiling  hope  beckoned  him  on  to  greater 
ventures. 

Though  Judge  McKean  was  then  the  central  figure,  the  other  Fed- 
eral officials  came  in  for  an  equal  share  of  Mormon  abuse.  No  matter 
what  they  had  done  or  left  undone,  they  were  guilty  on  the  main 
point:  they  recognized  no  sovereignty  in  Brigham  Young;  they  loved 
republicanism  and  hated  theocracy.  Governor  Geo.  L.  Woods  es- 
pecially came  in  for  unstinted  abuse.  His  conduct  in  suppressing  the 
Mormon  militia  was  painted  in  frightful  colors.  History  and  Script- 
ure were  ransacked  for  precedents.  The  fruitful  annals  of  Israel 
furnished  the  Mormon  preachers  with  abundant  similes:  He  was  a 
Roman  governor,  oppressing  the  Holy  Land ;  an  Amalekite,  hindering 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  165 

the  march  of  Israel ;  he  was  Pharaoh,  enslaving  God's  chosen  ;  he  was 
Herod,  thirsting  for  innocent  blood;  he  was  Pilate,  crucifying  the 
Lord  afresh.  Daniel  and  Revelations  were  reopened :  the  Govern- 
ment was  like  haughty  Babylon  rushing  on  to  destruction ;  war  was 
soon  to  scourge  America ;  all  our  cities  were  to  be  desolated,  and 
Washington  in  particular  was  to  be  sown  with  salt  and  rooted  up  by 
swine  !  The  Gentiles  were  equally 
fierce  in  their  zeal  to  prove  Utah's 
mineral  wealth ;  religious  fanaticism 
and  the  love  of  gain  were  playing  a 
strange  drama  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Wasatch. 

It  was  the  dryest  and  sickliest 
season  I  ever  knew  in  that  Terri- 
tory. The  Great  Salt  Lake,  which 
had  risen  year  by  year  till  it  stood 

,,,.,,  ,,  THE  MORMON  MILITIA. 

fifteen  feet  higher   than  when  first 

surveyed,  had  suddenly  fallen  far  below  the  water-marks  set  up  by 
Captain  Stansbury  in  1849.  On  the  north  and  east  the  bordering 
marshes  were  dry,  their  basins  shining  with  salt.  The  pleasant  babble 
of  the  water-seeks  along  the  city  streets  was  not  heard;  the  channels 
were  dry,  and  full  of  dust  and  refuse.  What  little  water  City  Creek 
supplied  was  needed  for  irrigating  the  inner  lots,  and  every-where  on 
the  streets  the  shade-trees  had  a  strange,  half-dead  look,  the  leaves 
curled  and  withering.  When  I  arrived  from  California,  September 
1st,  fifty-five  persons  had  died  in  three  weeks  out  of  a  population  of 
fourteen  thousand.  Two-thirds  of  the  people  complained  of  the 
malaria.  No  such  season  had  been  known  in  Salt  Lake  since  the 
notable  "  famine  year."  So  I  soon  took  stage  for  the  hills,  and  for 
three  months  devoted  most  of  my  time  to  inspecting  the  mines. 

Sixteen  miles  across  the  valley  and  over  the  "  bench,"  brought  us 
to  the  mouth  of  Little  Cottonwood  Caflon ;  while  a  storm  swept  over 
us  and  tipped  the  summits  of  the  Wasatch  with  snow.  In  these  en- 
closed basins  clouds  rise  from  the  lakes  and  marshes  and  float  away, 
without  shedding  their  moisture,  to  the  mountains;  there  they  are 
checked  and  fall  in  rain,  causing  the  mountain  sides  in  places  to  be 
covered  with  timber,  while  the  valleys  are  always  bare.  A  damp, 
numbing  wind  swept  down  the  cafion,  growing  colder  as  we  gained  in 
height,  till  overcoats  and  gloves  failed  to  secure  warmth ;  while  above 
and  around  us  every-where  the  peaks  glistened  with  snow,  seeming  by 
imagination  to  add  to  the  cold,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we 


166  WESTERN   WILDS. 

saw  the  trees  on  the  slopes  gray-white  with  rime,  and  knew  that  we 
had  invaded  the  domain  of  winter. 

For  two  days  the  storm  continued,  and  then  the  late  mild  autumn 
of  the  mountains  set  in.  In  summer  and  autumn  the  Cottonwood  dis- 
trict is  the  most  delightful  of  cool  retreats;  in  winter  a  lofty  snow- 
bank, with  here  and  there  a  gray  projection.  In  the  winter  sunshine 
it  would,  but  for  the  occasional  patches  of  timber,  present  a  painfully 
dazzling  expanse  of  white;  and  as  it  is,  serious  snow-blindness  is  not 
uncommon.  When  a  warm  south  wind  blows  for  a  day  or  two,  there 
is  greater  danger  of  snow-slides.  In  January,  1875,  the  snow  fell 
there,  without  intermission,  for  eight  days,  filling  the  deepest  gulches, 
into  which  the  few  stray  animals  plunged  and  floundered  helplessly. 
In  the  circular  mountain-hollows,  with  a  good  growth  of  timber,  the 
snow  drifted  from  ten  to  forty  feet  deep,  leaving  the  largest  trees 
looking  like  mere  shrubs.  Distant  settlements  were  quite  isolated, 
and  the  narrow  passes  thereto  stopped  by  snow.  However,  in  the 
best  developed  mines  work  went  on  under  ground,  all  the  side 
chambers  and  vacant  places  being  stacked  full  of  ore  as  fast  as  it 
was  mined.  In  a  few  more  days  the  sun  came  out  bright  and  clear, 
and  though  the  thermometer  rarely  rises  above  the  freezing  point 
during  the  first  two  months  of  the  year  in  the  higher  camps,  yet  the 
warmth  seems  to  have  been  sufficient  to  loosen  the  snow  not  yet 
tightly  packed;  and  in  every  place  where  the  slope  was  great  and 
the  timber  not  sufficient  to  bind  it,  avalanches  of  from  one  to  a  hun- 
dred acres  came  thundering  into  the  cafions,  sweeping  all  before  them. 
One  of  the  largest  swept  off  that  part  of  Alta  City,  Little  Cottonwood, 
lying  on  the  slope.  Six  persons  were  killed  outright,  either  crushed 
by  the  timber  of  their  own  cabins  or  smothered  in  the  snow,  and 
many  more  were  buried  five  or  six  hours,  until  relief  parties  dug  them 
out.  One  woman  was  found  sitting  upright  in  her  cabin  with  a  babe 
in  her  arms,  both  dead.  The  cabin  had  withstood  the  avalanche,  but 
the  snow  poured  in  at  the  doors  and  windows,  and  they  were  frozen 
or  smothered.  Thirty-five  lives  were- lost  in  Utah  that  winter  by 
snow-slides.  Six  men  were  buried  in  one  gulch  a  thousand  feet  under 
packed  ice  and  snow.  Search  for  them  was  useless.  But  at  length 
the  breath  of  June  dissolved  their  snowy  prison,  and  the  bodies  were 
revealed,  fresh  and  fair,  as  if  they  had  just  ceased  to  breathe. 

Alta  City,  the  metropolis  of  Little  Cottonwood,  is  at  the  center 
of  an  amphitheater,  the  ridges  rising  one  or  two  thousand  feet  high 
on  all  sides,  except  the  narrow  opening  down  the  cafion.  In  this 
circuit  is  a  mining  population  of  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  people, 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  167 

and  most  of  the  old  arid  noted  mines  of  Utah — The  Emma,  Flag- 
staff, Davenport,  South  Star,  Titus,  and  a  dozen  others.  The  ore 
carries  from  $100  to  $200  per  ton  in  silver,  and  from  thirty  to  sixty 
per  cent,  in  lead.  Thus  the  base  bullion  produced  from  this  ore 
is  from  ninety-six  to  ninety-nine  per  cent,  fead,  and  is  shipped 
eastward  for  separation.  The  old  question,  "  Which  is  the  heavier, 
a  pound  of  wool  or  a  pound  of  gold?"  has  its  correct  application 
among  miners ;  for  gold  and  silver  are  estimated  by  Troy  weight, 
wool  (and  lead)  by  Avoirdupois.  This  distinction  is  preserved  even 
when  lead  and  silver  are  in  the  same  ton  of  base  bullion.  Hence 
a  pound  of  wool  is  heavier  than  a  pound  of  gold  or  silver,  though 
an  ounce  of  either  metal  is  heavier  than  an  ounce  of  wool ! 

North  of  Little  Cottonwood,  and  also  opening  westward  upon 
Jordan  Valley,  is  the  caiion  of  Big  Cottonwood,  with  a  similar  class 
of  mines.  Far  up  the  cafion  is  Big  Cottonwood  Lake,  in  the  center 
of  a  beautiful  oval  vale,  where  the  Saints  usually  celebrate  Pioneers' 
Day — the  24th  of  July,  on  which  date,  1847,  Brigham  Young  and 
party  first  entered  the  valley.  From  any  commanding  point  above 
either  cafion,  one  can  look  out  westward  over  Jordan  Valley,  over 
the  lower  sections  of  the  Oquirrh  Range,  over  Rush  Valley  west  of 
it,  and  on  a  clear  day,  upon  the  far  summits  of  Deep  Creek  Range, 
glittering  like  silver  points  in  the  dim  distance.  But  the  grandest 
view  is  from  the  summit  of  Bald  Peak,  highest  of  the  Wasatch 
Range,  and  nearly  12,000  feet  above  the  sea.  Thither  I  climbed  to- 
wards the  close  of  an  autumn  day,  and  overlooked  one  quarter  of 
Utah.  Eighty  miles  South  of  me  Mount  Nebo  bounded  the  view, 
its  lowest  pass  forming  the  " divide"  between  the  waters  which 
flow  into  this  basin,  and  those  flowing  out  with  the  Sevier  into  the 
Great  Desert.  Below  me  lay  Utah  Lake  and  vicinity — a  clear  mir- 
ror bordered  by  gray  slopes ;  far  down  the  valley,  Salt  Lake  City 
appeared  upon  the  plain  like  a  green  blur,  dotted  with  white;  north- 
ward the  Salt  Lake  rolled  its  white-caps,  sparkling  in  the  sun- 
shine, while,  the  Wasatch  Range,  glistening  along  its  pointed  sum- 
mits with  freshly-fallen  snow,  stretched  away  northward  till  it  faded 
in  dim  perspective  beyond  Ogden.  A  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
North  to  South,  and  nearly  the  same  from  East  to  West,  were  in- 
cluded in  one  view — twenty  thousand  square  miles  of  mountain,  gorge, 
and  valley. 

Eight  days  sufficed  to  visit  most  of  the  mines  of  Little  Cottonwood. 
From  thirty  to  fifty  tons  of  "ore  were  leaving  the  cafion  daily,  and 
at  least  a  thousand  new  locations  had  been  made,  every  one  of 


168  WESTERN  WILDS. 

which  the  confident  owners  expected  to  develop  into  an  Emma.  The 
last  day  the  air  suddenly  grew  hazy,  and,  looking  northward,  we 
saw  the  sky  of  a  peculiar  ash  and  copper  color.  Old  miners  shook 
their  heads  ominously  and  said :  "  The  fire  is  sweeping  Big  Cotton- 
wood."  Next  morning  the  peaks  were  shrouded  in  smoke,  and 
about  4  P.  M.,  a  great  white  column  shot  into  the  sky  for  thousands 
of  feet,  apparently  just  over  the  "divide,"  then,  swaying  back  and 
forth,  settled  into  the  shape  of  an  immense  cone,  and  we  knew  to 
a  certainty  that  the  wind  was  "down  the  cafion,"  and,  consequently, 
the  fire  nearing  the  Big  Cottonwood  smelting  works.  It  took  me 
all  the  next  day  to  pass  the  "  divide,"  for  the  lowest  point  on  the 
ridge  is  2,000  feet  above  Central,  and  the  descent  still  greater  on 
the  northern  side.  When  I  reached  Silver  Springs  the  fire  was  near- 
ing  the  town,  and  after  night-fall  the  sight  was  indescribably  grand. 
From  the  summit  of  Granite  Mountain,  dividing  the  heads  of  Big 
and  Little  Cottonwoods,  down  through  the  lake  region  and  Mill 
Cafion,  to  the  tops  of  Uintah  Hills — for  eight  miles  in  a  semicircle 
around  and  above  us — the  view  was  bounded  by  great  swaying  sheets 
of  flame.  The  sky  to  the  zenith  was  a  bright  blood-red,  and  down 
to  the  West  a  gleaming  waxy  yellow ;  while  almost  over  us  Honey- 
comb Peak,  where  the  timber  had  burned  to  a  coal,  and  which  was 
divided  from  us  by  a  large  rocky  gorge,  stood  out  detached  and  glow- 
ing red  like  a  volcano  outlined  against  the  sky. 

Morning  came,  and  with  it  detachments  of  miners  from  neighbor- 
ing camps,  working  their  way  through  the  lower  defiles,  to  fell  tim- 
ber and  "  burn  against  the  fire."  The  town  is  in  a  grove  of  quaking 
asp,  and  was  in  no  great  danger ;  but,  across  Cottonwood  Creek,  where 
the  Smelting  Works  stand,  the  growth  is  mountain  pine,  which  burns 
green  or  dry.  The  whole  cafion  was  so  full  of  smoke  that  the  sun 
could  barely  be  discerned,  and  the  pyrotechnics  of  the  night  had 
given  place  to  a  death-like  gloom.  From  the  creek  to  the  mountain 
summit  south  was  a  roaring  mass  of  flames,  when  at  noon  the  wind 
suddenly  changed,  and  for  twenty-four  hours  blew  almost  a  hurricane 
up  the  cafion.  The  timber  had  been  felled  for  two  hundred  yards 
around  the  works;  it  was  now  set  on  fire,  and  ttie  great  business  en- 
terprise of  this  camp  was  saved.  After  the  'day  of  wind  came  rain, 
then  snow,  and  next  morning  the  latter,  four  inches  deep,  was  melt- 
ing slowly  into  black  mud. 

South  of  the  Cottonwoods,  American  Fork  Cafion  opens  upon  the 
Utah  Lake  Basin ;  a  succession  of  wild  gorges  and  timbered  vales 
cause  it  to  be  known  as  the  Yosemite  of  Utah.  A  narrow-guage  rail- 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  169 

road,  built  by  Rowland  &  Aspinwall,  to  transport  ore,  runs  down 
the  canon  and  out  to  the  Utah  Southern ;  so  that  the  traveler  can 
reach  the  head  of  this  canon  by  rail  from  Salt  Lake  City.  There  a 
rich  gold  lode  has  lately  been  discovered,  and  there  is  a  prospect  of 
big  developments  in  that  direction.  The  silver  ores  are  mainly  car- 
bonates ;  transportation  is  vastly  cheapened,  and  low  grade  ores  can 
be  worked  profitably. 

East  of  American  Fork,  over  a  very  rugged  range  of  peaks,  is  the 
Snake  Creek  District.  The  creek  empties  into  the  Provo  River,  and 
most  of  the  mining  has  been  done  by  the  Mormon  farmers  from  the 
valley  below,  who  go  up  and  mine  only  in  the  intervals  of  farm  work. 
Such  workmen  develop  a  camp  very  slowly,  and  the  Mormons  gener- 
ally, except  those  from  mining  regions  in  Europe,  are  singularly  de- 
ficient in  ability  for  the  business.  The  student  in  social  science 
might  find  here  some  curious  matter  for  reflection,  in  the  way  the  two 
classes  are  located  in  Utah.  The  Gentiles  are  on  the  hills,  the  Saints 
in  the  valleys;  and  along  a  single  street  in  the  old  Mormon  towns 
the  ore  wagons  pass  to  and  fro.  and  the  tide  of  Gentile  travel  ebbs 
and  flows,  making  scarcely  any  impression  upon  the  slow  and  sleepy 
Europeans.  Occasionally  you  will  see  a  Gentile  located  -in  one  of 
these  places;  but  he  is  always  keeping  a  way-side  hotel  or  restau- 
rant, and  looks  singularly  out  of  place.  Without  church,  school,  or 
society,  his  sole  interest  centers  in  the  Gentile  travelers.  If  able, 
financially,  he  sends  his  children  to  boarding-school  in  the  city ;  if 
not,  they  get  an  education  as  they  can  catch  it.  His  neighbors  charge 
him  about  a  third  more  for  produce  than  they  do  each  other,  and 
never  patronize  him  in  return.  The  rules  of  the  "  Order  of  Enoch  " 
are  that  a  Saint  can  sell  to  a  Gentile,  but  must  not  buy  of  him.  The 
city  council — for  every  village  is  incorporated  in  Utah — always 
charges,  him  the  largest  license  they  think  he  will  endure,  always 
raising  it  if  the  trade  increases ;  and  thus  some  of  these  little  gov- 
ernments are  almost  supported  by  the  Gentile  travelers.  Eastern 
orators  and  editors  frequently  ask  why  we  don't  feel  more  kindly 
towards  the  Latter-day  Saints.  It  is  singular,  isn't  it? 

I  went  next  to  the  Western  Districts.  Passing  the  southern  point 
of  the  lake,  where  the  Oquirrh  leaves  barely  room  for  a  broad  wagon- 
road,  we  enter  upon  Tooele  Valley,  eastern  section  of  Tooele  County. 
This  county  contains  7,000  square  miles,  and  not  more  than  a  hundred 
sections  of  cultivable  land  !  Of  the  rest,  one-third  or  more  consists  of 
mountains,  rugged  and  barren,  or  scantily  clothed  with  timber  and 
grass ;  and  4000  square  miles  of  the  worst  desert  in  the  world.  But  it 


170  WESTERN  WILDS. 

contains  three  of  the  richest  mining  districts  in  the  West,  and  a  dozen 
more  which  promise  equal  richness  when  developed.  Hence  the  agri- 
cultural (Mormon)  population  is  small,  while  the  Gentile  miners  have 
increased  rapidly;  hence,  "too,  this  is  the  first,  and  as  yet  the  only, 
county  in  the  Territory  to  pass  under  Gentile  control,  and  is  known  in 
our  political  literature  as  the  "  Republic  of  Tooele."  Tooele  City,  the 
county  seat,,  and  only  considerable  town,  was  long  inhabited  by  the 
most  fanatical  Mormons  in  Utah ;  and  when,  in  1870,  the  opening  of 
mines  first  set  the  tide  of  Gentile  travel  flowing  through  the  place, 
they  resisted  change  with  stubborn  tenacity.  At  length  Mr.  E.  S. 
Foote,  now  representative  elect  from  the  county,  ventured  to  set  up  a 
Gentile  hotel ;  but  they  led  him  a  merry  dance  for  a  year  or  two.  The 
city  council  raised  his  license  every  quarter,  until  it  took  one-fifth  or 
more  of  his  receipts  to  pay  it ;  and  every  Gentile  who  smoked  a  cigar, 
ate  a  dinner,  or  stayed  over  night  at  Foote's,  was  putting  from  ten  cents 
to  a  dollar  in  the  city  treasury.  Still  he  pulled  through ;  one  after 
another  came,  and  now  the  flourishing  Gentile  colony  in  Tooele  have 
church,  school,  and  social  hall  of  their  own,  and  the  young  Mormons 
welcome  the  change.  When  the  county  offices  passed  into  Gentile 
hands  late  in  1874,  the  old  Mormons  seemed  to  expect  nothing  less 
than  ruin  and  confiscation,  and  are  yet  scarcely  recovered  from  their 
amazement. 

Eight  miles  beyond  Tooele  is  Stockton,  the  "  lead  camp  of  Utah." 
Most  of  its  mines  yield  from  $20  to  $40  in  silver,  and  from  a  thousand 
to  fourteen  hundred  pounds  of  lead  per  ton.  Hence  the  ore  works 
almost  as  easily  as  metallic  lead  melts ;  and  though  long  considered  the 
slowest,  as  it  was  the  oldest,  mining  town  in  Utah,  with  more  capital 
and  cheaper  transportation,  Stockton  is  steadily  growing  in  importance. 
Here  we  enter  Rush  Valley,  an  oval  some  fifteen  by  thirty  miles  in 
extent,  with  a  water-system  of  its  own,  and  cut  off  from  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  by  a  causeway  some  800  feet  high.  Twenty  years  ago  the  center 
and  lowest  point  of  this  valley  was  a  rich  meadow,  and  included  in  a 
government  reservation  six  miles  square ;  now  the  center  of  that 
meadow  is  twenty  feet  under  water,  and  a  crystal  lake  eight  by  four 
miles  in  extent  covers  most  of  what  was  the  reservation.  Such  is  the 
change  consequent  on  the  aqueous  increase  of  late  years  in  this  strange 
country.  Three  deep  caftons  break  out  westwardly  from  the  Oquirrh. 
In  the  southern  one,  known  as  East  Cafion,  "  horn-silver,"  or  chloride, 
was  discovered  in  August,  1870.  In  three  months  a  thousand  men  were 
at  work  in  that  district.  Bowlders  were  often  found  lined  with  chlo- 
ride of  silver,  which  yielded  from  $5,000  to  $20,000  per  ton.  Ophir 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA. 


171 


City,  the  metropolis,  stands  in  the  bottom  of  a  cafion  2,000  feet  deep, 
which  makes  a  very  singular  division  of  the  district.  On  the  south  side 
are  bonanzas  of  very  rich  ore,  mostly  chloride  in  a  limestone  matrix,  with 
little  or  rfo  admixtures  of  base  metal ;  on  the  north  side  are  larger 
bodies  of  lower-grade  ore — a  combination  of  sulphides  of  iron,  lead, 
arsenic,  anti- 
mony, and  zinc, 
carrying  in  sil- 
ver from  $30 
to  $80  per  ton, 
and  from  twen- 
ty to  fifty  per 
cent,  of  lead. 
From  the  series 
of  mines  on 
Lion  Hill, 
south  side, 
known  as  the 
Zella,  Rock- 
well, etc.,  have 
been  taken  at 
least  $800,000 
in  silver,  leav- 
ing an  immense 
amount  in 

Sight.  CHLORIDE  CAVE,  LION  HILL. 

Over  the  sharp  ridge  which  bounds  East  Canon  on  the  north  is  Dry 
Canon,  which  was  the  leading  camp  of  Utah  in  1874.  There  one  mine 
yielded  three-quarters  of  a  million.  In  this  camp  carbonates  of  lead 
and  silver  predominate,  all  the  ore  smelting  freely.  Both  canons  are 
included  in  Ophir  District,  which  has  passed  through  the  three  periods 
destined  for  all  new  mining  camps.  The  year  1870  was  the  era  of 
discovery  and  high  hopes;  1871  of  wilder  speculation,  not  unmixed 
with  fraud ;  then  came  the  era  of  reaction  and  long  drawn-out  law- 
suits, which  were  aggravated  by  the  wretchedly  unsettled  condition  of 
the  Utah  courts.  It  was  the  era  of  transition  from  the  old  Mormon 
system  of  juries  directed  by  priestly  "counsel,"  to  the  Gentile  system. 
The  Saints  were  determined  to  retain  their  hold  on  the  courts,  or  cut 
off  supplies ;  the  Federal  District  Judges  were  equally  determined  the 
courts  should  not  run  unless  independently  of  the  Mormons.  Courts 
of  Equity  in  the  afternoon  enjoined  proceedings  directed  by  Courts  of 


172  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Law  in  the  forenoon;  injunctions  tied  up  every  thing,  and  restraining 
orders  confronted  every  body,  and  the  weary  way  of  contending  claim- 
ants lay  across  a  desert  of  fruitless  litigation,  diversified  only  by  mount- 
ains of  fee-bills,  and  strewn  with  certioraris,  nisi  priuses,  and  writs  of 
error.  Capital  fled  the  scene  of  so  much  contention.  There  were  more 
lawsuits  impending  than  the  Third  District  Court  could  have  settled 
in  ten  years.  At  last  some  of  the  disputes  reached  a  conclusion  in 
court,  twenty  times  as  many  were  compromised,  and  in  1874  the  dis- 
trict entered  on  the  more  satisfactory  stage  of  steady  work  and  devel- 
opment. The  deepest  mine  is  now  down  1,400  feet,  and  the  great  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  these  are  permanent  fissure  veins  is  being  solved  in 
the  only  way  it  can  be — by  digging.  The  district  contains  some  1,200 
working  miners,  and  about  half  as  many  women  and  children. 

Language  fails  me  to  portray  the  hardy  enterprise,  nerve,  and  perse- 
verance of  the  miners  who  are  opening  the  silver  lodes  of  Western 
Utah.  Roads  are  being  laid  out  across  every  desert,  trails  over  every 
range ;  and  on  every  mountain  that  lines  this  Territory  and  Nevada, 
hardy  prospectors  are  hunting  for  "indications"  and  opening  new  sil- 
ver districts.  The  latest  enterprise  of  note  is  in  Dug- Way  District, 
lying  some  ninety  miles  west  of  Ophir  City,  across  one  of  the  worst 
deserts  in  this  desert  region.  Though  this  chapter  begins  with  the 
autumn  of  1871,  I  have  condensed  in  it  my  later  observations  on  Utah 
mines,  and  may  as  well  insert  here  a  more  complete  description  of  the 
Western  District. 

All  the  interior  of  the  Great  Basin,  between  the  Mormon  settle- 
ment which  line  the  foot  of  the  Wasatch,  and  the  corresponding  val- 
leys which  open  eastward  from  the  Sierras,  has  one  uniform  character 
of  rugged  grandeur  and  barrenness.  It  is  divided  into  many  inferior 
basins  by  a  number  of  short  and  abrupt  mountain  ranges,  running 
north  and  south,  and  furnishing  scant  supplies  of  water,  with  here  and 
there  a  stream  large  enough  to  irrigate  a  few  acres.  Between  these 
ranges  lie  almost  level  deserts — plains  where  the  soil  is  a  compound 
of  sand,  salt,  alkali,  flint  rock,  and  an  incoherent  red  earth,  destitute 
of  all  vegetation,  save  rare  patches  of  stunted  white  sage-brush,  re- 
sembling pennyroyal  more  than  any  plant  to  be  seen  in  Ohio.  At 
times,  however,  the  entire  soil  is  of  an  ashy  white  earth,  half  of  it 
probably  alkali,  solid  only  in  winter  and  wet  weather,  but  in  the  dry  sea- 
son easily  stirred  up  in  blinding  white  clouds.  An  area  of  some  60,000 
square  miles  does  not  contain  a  hundred  sections  of  cultivable  land ; 
but  at  the  mountain  bases  are  found  considerable  tracts  of  the  yellow 
bumch-grass.  In  the  old  freighting  days,  the  custom  of  teamsters  was 


UTAH  ARGENT1FERA. 


173 


to  skirt  along  these  ranges  to  the  narrowest  part  of  the  desert,  recruit 
their  stock  at  the  last  grass  and  water  on  this  side,  then  drive  night 
and  day  until  they  reached  the  first  grass  and  water  on  the  other  side. 
Take  it  for  all  in  all  it  is  about  as  worthless  a  region  as  ever  lay  out 
doors ;  and,  on  the  Hoosier's  "  Coon-dog  principle,"  ought  to  be  rich 
in  mines,  for  it  is  of  no  account  for  any  thing  else. 

The  only  game  in  most  of  that  region  is  jack-rabbits  and  sage-hens; 
other  animals 
are  the  sandy 
or  horned- 
toad,  rattle- 
snake  and 
ground-mi  ce. 
On  many  of 
the  hills  grows 
the  pinion 
pine,  on  the 
nuts  of  which, 
with  grass 
seeds,  and 
roots,  and  a 
chance  capt- 
ure of  game,  the  Goshoots  (Gosha-Utes)  eke  out  a  miserable  exist- 
ence. The  sand-flies  live  on  the  greasewood ;  the  horned  toad  lives 
on  the  flies ;  the  snakes  live  on  the  toads,  and  the  Goshoots  eat  all 
three.  From  September  to  December,  the  Indians  fatten  up  consider- 
ably; the  rest  of  the  winter  they  pass  in  a  half  comatose  state,  crouch- 
ing over  a  little  fire  in  brush  "  wickiups,"  or  lying  on  the  sunny  side 
of  a  rock,  sleeping  as  much  as  possible,  with  a  meal  or  two  per  week 
of  ground-mice  or  frozen  snake,  coming  out  in  the  spring  as  lean  and 
lank  as  fence-rails.  There  are  no  deformed  or  idiotic  among  them ; 
the  winter  kills  all  the  old  or  weakly  ones ;  only  the  hardy  can  breed, 
and  the  struggle  for  existence  secures  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 

Across  that  region  I  went  in  May,  1875,  to  visit  the  new  mines  in 
Dugway  Range.  From  Ophir  City,  forty  miles  westward  through  the 
passes  of  the  Onannoquah  Range,  brought  me  to  the  ranche  of  "  Peg- 
leg  "  Davis,  the  last  house  this  side  of  the  Great  Desert.  All  the 
miners  who  had  visited  Dugway  told  me  to  take  careful  directions 
from  Davis,  for  that  a  new  trail  had  been  located  straight  from  his 
ranche  to  the  camp,  and  only  thirty-five  miles  long — a  little  slough  of 
water  about  the  middle  of  the  route.  But  Mr.  Ddris  informed  me 


GOSH  DOT  LOVE-FEAST. 


174  WESTERN   WILDS. 

that  every  stranger  who  took  that  route  got  lost,  as  it  led  among 
some  sand-hills,  where  the  trail  would  not  hold,  and  only  direction 
could  guide  one;  but  the  sand-hills  shut  off  the  view  and  left  one  with- 
out direction.  My  best  plan,  he  thought,  was  to  follow  down  the  old 
Overland,  guided  by  the  telegraph  polos  where  the  sand  had  obliter- 
ated the  track,  nine  miles  to  Simpson  Springs,  where  I  would  find  the 
last  water,  thence  nine  miles  to  River  Bed,  and  just  beyond  that  a 
trait  led  straight  across,  and  only  twelve  miles  long  to  the  foot  of 
Dugway  Mountains,  and  into  a  rich,  green  canon,  where  I  would  find 
water.  Thence  it  was  only  twelve  miles  around  the  foot  of  the  mount- 
ains to  the  mines.  But,  he  added,  "if  you  get  lost  or  don't  find  the 
water,  start  back  immediately,  for  if  your  horse  goes  more  than  a  day 
without  water,  you're  a  goner." 

I  set  out  gayly  on  a  cool  May  morning,  and  took  in  liquid  supplies 
(a  canteen-full)  at  Simpson  Springs.  Thence  it  is  fifty-five  miles  on 
the  stage  road  to  the  next  water,  at  Deep  Creek,  where  is  an  oasis 
large  enough  to  support  twenty  Mormon  families.  Until  1874,  they 
were  as  completely  isolated  as  if  on  an  island  in  mid-ocean ;  but  now 
a  new  mining  district  is  opened  near  them.  Deep  Creek  Range  is  so 
high  that  its  summits,  capped  with  snow  throughout  the  year,  can  be 
seen,  a  hundred  miles  away.  Dugway  Range  is  over  thirty  miles  in 
length,  north  and  south.  At  the  north  end  five  or  ten  miles  of  desert 
intervene  between  it  and  Granite  Range,  which  trends  north-west,  and 
is  so  full  of  heavy  galena  mines  that  they  are  literally  of  no  account. 
That  is,  no  locator  can  sell  one  of  them,  for  any  man  who  can  handle 
a  pick  can  go  there,  and  find  a  mine  for  himself  in  a  week.  The 
mountain  is  literally  full  of  lead ;  but  it  is  a  new  district,  and  a  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  railroad,  and  time  and  capital  are  required  for 
development. 

Nine  miles  from  Simpson  Springs  I  descended  into  River  Bed,  the 
strangest  phenomenon  of  this  strange  country.  For  nearly  three  hun- 
dred miles — all  the  way  from  Sevier  Lake  to  the  western  shore  of 
Great  Salt  Lake — runs  an  immense  dry  river-bed.  Once  the  channel 
of  a  stream  as  large,  apparently,  as  the  Ohio,  it  is  now  a  channel  of 
the  purest  white  sand.  It  is  scarcely  possible  for  the  stranger  nearing 
it  to  resist  the  illusion  that  he  is  approaching  an  immense  stream. 
There  are  the  bold  bluifs,  the  gentle  slope,  which  looks  as  though  it 
ought  to  be  clothed  with  blue-grass,  and  is  scantily  clad  with  cactus 
and  greasewood ;  the  broken  bank  and  the  sandy  bed  from  half  to 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide.  If  the  Ohio  ten  miles  below  Cincinnati 
should  suddenly  dry  up,  and  every  green  thing  on  its  banks  perish,  it 


UTAH  AROENTIFERA.  175 

would  present  an  exact  picture  of  this  channel.  Piles  of  minute  shells, 
long  winroAvs  of  wash-gravel,  and  plats  of  white  sand,  all  indicate  that 
the  current  was  to  the  northward,  and  swift  and  strong.  Having 
crossed  it  to  near  the  western  bank,  a  smaller  channel  with  minor  in- 
dications presents  itself,  all  going  to  show  that  after  a  stream  the 
size  of  the  Ohio  had  flowed  on  for  uncounted  thousands  of  years,  there 
was  a  shrinkage  in  volume,  after  which  a  stream  more  like  the  Little 
Miami  continued  for  thousands  of  years  more.  Here  and  there  along 
the  three  hundred  miles  of  this  extinct  river,  sharp  mountain  spurs 
put  out  from  main  ranges  and  cut  it  off,  and  more  frequently  there  are 
up-heavals ;  but  the  stream  impartially  continues  on  its  course,  up  hill 
and  down,  and  over  them  all.  Our  local  scientists  say  that  wet  and 
dry  cycles  follow  each  other  around  the  world ;  that  Utah  once  had  the 
rainiest  climate  on  earth,  followed  by  a  dry  cycle;  that  the  latter  has 
slowly  run  its  course,  and  that  we  are  once  more  entering  on  an  era  of 
abundant  rain.  Very  pleasant  to  hope,  "  But  all  may  think  which 
way  their  judgments  lean  'em." 

Beyond  River  Bed  I  struck  the  trail,  and  twelve  miles  across  a  hard 
bed  of  gravel  and  alkali  brought  me  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and 
into  the  richest  bunch-grass  pastures  I  have  seen  in  Utah.  I  entered 
the  canon,  hunted  two  hours,  and  found  no  water;  then  skirted  along 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  northward  for  five  miles,  but  saw  no  camps 
and  no  sign  of  road  or  trail.  Night  came  on  suddenly,  as  it  always 
does  on  these  deserts,  and  the  situation  looked  blue.  Expecting  to  eat 
supper  with  the  miners,  I  had  taken  no  provision.  My  horse  had 
plenty  of  grass,  and  I  had  water  enough  to  last  me  thirty-six  hours. 
Could  we  stand  it  thus  another  day?  I  thought  we  could,  concluded 
to  camp  till  daylight,  and  hunt  again  for  the  road  to  the  mines. 
Tying  the  lariat  to  a  sage  brush,  that  my  horse  might  graze  its 
length,  I  lay  down  in  a  gully  with  only  the  saddle-blankets  and  my 
overcoat  for  a  bed.  In  twenty  minutes  the  sky  was  overcast,  and  in 
twenty  more  there  came  a  cold,  almost  sleety  rain,  chilling  me  to  the 
bones.  No  sleep  for  that  night.  I  must  walk  to  keep  from  freezing, 
and  might  as  well  walk  toward  comfort  and  safety.  Here  was  a  situa- 
tion !  Forty  miles  from  the  nearest  food  and  shelter,  thirty  miles 
from  drinking  water,  on  the  mountain  side,  10  o'clock  at  night,  and 
a  storm  of  sleet  coming  on.  Sadly  I  rigged  up  again  and  set  out  afoot 
on  my  return.  At  intervals  the  clouds  broke  away,  and  by  the  fitful 
glimpses  of  the  moon  I  selected  a  mountain  peak  which  I  had  marked 
by  day  as  due  east,  and  made  that  my  landmark.  Hour  after  hour  I 
toiled  on  across  the  desert,  warm  enough  now  with  exercise  and 


176 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


anxiety,  and  sustaining  fatigue  by  thoughts  of  how  much  worse  the 
travel  would  be  in  the  daytime.  Soon  after  midnight  the  storm 
ceased;  and  at  two  in  the  morning,  I  found  myself  on  the  western 
slope  of  River  Bed,  and  in  another  hour  the  telegraph  poles  loomed 
up  out  of  the  darkness.  Never  would  I  have  believed  that  a  man 
could  be  so  glad  to  see  a  telegraph  pole.  Thence  the  road  was  plain: 
the  sky  was  clear,  though  the  air  was  very  cold,  and  I  thought  to 
sleep  till  daylight.  But  it  wouldn't  do.  I  couldn't  cuddle  to  sage- 
brush, and  stiff  with  cold,  I  got  up  and  toiled  on. 

Looking  back  from  the  rising  ground  over  the  desert,  I  saw  the 

most  sublime  scene  I 
have  witnessed  for 
many  a  day.  There 
was  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky,  the  air  was  in  a 
dead  calm,  and  the 
gibbous  moon  was 
just  sinking  behind 
the  Dugway  Range. 
Bathed  in  its  mellow 
light  the  white  plain 
took  on  a  glory  that 
was  indescribable.  The  mountain  ranges  and  isolated  red  buttes 
glowed  like  silver  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  cast  great  pointed 
shadows  for  miles  upon  the  white  surface.  The  snow-clad  peaks 
above  Deep  Creek  shone  with  a  dazzling  light;  the  blue  peaks  of 
Granite  Mountain  seemed  to  be  painted  against  the  clear  sky,  while 
on  its  western  face  the  porphyry  dykes  gleamed  like  burnished 
copper.  Between  the  mountains  where  the  view  of  the  plain  was  un- 
obstructed, it  seemed  to  rise  and  fade  away  into  the  horizon.  I  forgot 
cold  and  hunger  m  gazing  upon  the  sight.  Soon,  however,  mountain, 
peak,  butte,  and  plain,  seemed  to  sink  down  into  an  abyss,  as  the 
moon  disappeared;  and  for  an  hour  I  had  only  the  stars  to  guide  me. 
Then  suddenly  from  the  peak  I  had  made  my  landmark,  a  purple 
streamer»stretched  away  to  the  zenith ;  then  another  between  that  and 
the  southern  horizon ;  then  another  and  another,  and  soon  the  wrholc 
firmament  took  on  a  purple  glow,  while  the  rugged  top  of  the  Onan- 
noquah  Range  seemed  clearly  outlined  against  the  eastern  sky.  Then 
the  purple  hue  gave  way  to  a  pale  rosy  color,  the  rose  to  crimson,  and 
the  crimson  again  to  yellow;  one  by  one  the  stars  faded  out,  and  I  saw 
the  snowy  tops  of  Deep  Creek  Mountain  faintly  tipped  with  the 


LOST  ON  THK  DKSEltT. 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  17? 

yellow  rays  of  the  coming  sun.  The  line  of  telegraph  poles  seemed  to 
rise  out  of  the  ground  far  ahead ;  the  morning  note  and  flutter  of  a 
sage-hen  were  occasionally  heard,  and  my  horse  gave  a  loud  neigh,  as 
if  to  attest  his  joy  that  the  tiresome  night  was  gone. 

His  neigh  was  answered  by  another,  and  I  soon  came  upon  a  camp 
of  Mormons,  who  had,  the  previous  day  and  night,  made  the  fifty-five 
mile  drive  from  the  last  spring  on  the  other  side  to  Simpson  Spring. 
From  them  I  got  a  biscuit  and  cup  of  coffee,  and  after  watering  and 
resting  my  horse  at  Simpson,  made  the  ten  miles  to  Davis's  place  by 
10  A.  M.  At  first  I  thought  myself  in  good  condition,  but  in  an 
hour  or  two,  my  anxiety  being  over,  I  felt  that  ninety  miles  walking 
and  riding  in  twenty-seven  hours,  without  food,  had  produced  effects. 
How  my  bones  ached!  But  nature  does  wonders  for  a  man  in  that 
dry,  bracing  air,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  I  was  myself  again. 

I  have  said  that  the  Salt  Lake  Basin  is  the  largest  and  most  im- 
portant of  the  various  subdivisions  of  the  Great  Basin  ;  the  finest  view 
of  it  as  a  whole  can  be  obtained  from  the  deck  of  a  steamer  on  the 
lake.  This  is  how  the  most  pleasant  excursion  in  Utah,  and  our  cele- 
bration of  Independence  Day,  1875,  on  the  lake,  will  long  be  held  in 
delightful  remembrance.  The  steamer  "  General  Garfield,"  formerly 
called  the  "City  of  Corinne,"  made  two  and  three  hour  trips  all  day; 
first  to  the  eastern  shore  of  Stansbury's  Island,  then  to  the  western 
shore  of  Antelope,  and  again  through  the  deep  soundings  between. 
Stansbury's  Island  lies  eighteen  miles  from  the  landing,  and  is  about 
ten  miles  long  from  north  to  south.  We  went  on  board  at  10.30  A.  M., 
and  at  fifteen  minutes  after  twelve  grazed  the  shore  of  the  island,  hav- 
ing a  strong  wind  to  contend  with.  But  nobody  cared  to  land,  as  the 
island  is  nothing  but  a  vast  red  and  .yellow  rock  rising  to  a  height  of 
2,000  feet  above  the  water.  Antelope  or  Church  Island  lies  some 
fifteen  miles  east  of  the  former,  and  is  sixteen  miles  long,  nine  miles 
wide  in  the  center,  and  rises  3,000  feet  above  the  lake  surface,  its  sum- 
mit being  7,250  feet  above  the  sea.  Remember  that  the  water  on 
which  we  were  sailing  is  higher  than  any  mountain  in  Virginia  or 
Pennsylvania. 

From  the  deck  of  a  steamer  on  the  lake,  the  view  eastward  includes 
two  hundred  miles  of  the  Wasatch  Range,  its  summits  every-where 
glistening  with  the  remains  of  last  winter's  snow,  not  yet  yielding  to 
the  July  sun.  Westward  the  nearer  Cedar  Mountains  obstruct  the 
view,  but  here  and  there  through  the  lowest  gaps  can  be  seen  glisten- 
ing from  afar  the  white  summits  of  the  Goshoot  and  Deep  Creek 
Ranges.  Between  the  two  are  Granite  and  Dugway  Ranges,  but  so 
12 


178  WESTERN   WILDS. 

much  lower  than  the  others  that  they  are  invisible.  As  the  day  ad- 
vances the  fine  haze  rising  from  the  lake  blots  out  all  the  lower  por- 
tions of  the  ranges,  and  the  glittering  summits  stand  outlined  against 
the  sky  like  points  of  burnished  silver  suspended  in  mid-air.  From 
three  corners  of  the  lake  great  tongues  of  open  country  project  back 
into  the  mountains,  constituting  the  three  great  valleys  of  this  basin. 
To  the  north-east  Bear  River  Valley  lies  in  the  shape  of  a  half  open 
fan,  the  lower  end  twenty-five  miles  wide,  the  valley  running  thence 
to  near  the  Idaho  line,  where  it  narrows  to  a  mere  canon.  South-east, 
Salt  Lake  Valley  proper  runs  southward  between  the  Wasatch  and 
Qquirrh,  in  shape  very  like  a  horse-shoe.  Early  in  the  day  we  can 
see  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer  many  buildings  in  the  city,  the  oval 
dome  of  the  Tabernacle  shining  conspicuously;  but  as  the  haze  deepens 
the  "rising  mirage"  appears,  and  the  whole  city  seems  to  rise  slowly 
and  melt  ,away  into  nothingness.  This  haze  is  not  visible  to  the  eye. 
The  day  is  apparently  as  clear  as  ever;  the  sky  is  blue,  the  sun 
shines  with  his  full  power,  and  the  sharpest  eye  can  not  discern  any 
mist.  But  distant  objects  fade  out  of  sight,  and  fine  outlines  become 
blurred  and  indistinct.  The  finest  time  for  a  view  is,  of  course,  in  the 
early  morning.  Then  the  mountains  fifty  miles  away  seem  as  dis- 
tinct as  if  within  a  mile,  and  all  the  peaks  shine  through  the  clear 
air  with  great  beauty. 

It  is  often  said  that  there  is  no  living  thing  in  Great  Salt  Lake. 
There  is  a  minute  animalculse  on  the  bottom,  resembling  a  fine  shaving 
of  the  skin  from  one's  finger,  more  than  any  thing  else  I  can  compare 
it  to.  As  it  grows  in  size  it  beats  in  towards  the  land  by  the  action 
of  the  waves,  and  finally  swells  up  into  the  likeness  of  a  worm,  and 
floats  upon  the  water.  The  boatmen  think  that  the  flies,  which  are  so 
numerous  around  the  edge  of  the  lake,  breed  from  this  worm,  and  this 
idea  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  the  empty  hulls  of  the  worm, 
like  abandoned  shells  of  chrysalis,  float  on  the  water  in  large  sections 
extending  in  long  dark  lines  for  hundreds  of  feet.  At  first  I% supposed 
these  collections  were  merely  the  bodies  of  drowned  flies,  but  on  ex- 
amination they  proved  to  be  the  husks,  so  to  speak,  of  what  had  been 
worms.  All  sorts  of  attempts  have  been  made  to  propagate  life  in 
the  lake,  or  mouths  of  the  affluent  streams,  but  one  and  all  have  failed. 
Oysters  have  been  planted  at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers,  but  when  the 
wind  was  up  stream,  the  dense  brine  setting  in  from  the  lake  killed 
them.  Jordan  was  stocked  with  eels  a  few  years  ago,  but  they  floated 
down  into  the  lake  and  died.  One  was  picked  up  long  afterwards  on 
the  eastern  shore,  completely  pickled.  The  finder  cooked  and  ate  it, 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  179 

and  found  it  very  palatable.  Gulls  and  pelicans  abound  in  places 
around  the  lake,  feeding  on  the  flies  and  worms.  Captain  Stansbury 
reports  finding  a  blind  pelican  which  had  been  fed  by  its  companions 
and  kept  fat.  At  points  where  grassy  marshes  border  the  lake  the 
buffalo  gnats  are  numerous  and  troublesome.  There  are  indications 
that  buffalo  were  abundant  in  this  basin  a  hundred  years  ago.  The 
Indians  say  the  Great  Spirit  changed  them  all  to  crickets!  The  latter 
were  very  destructive  to  the  first  crops  of  the  Mormons,  until  the 
gulls  came  in  immense  flocks  and  devoured  them.  The  Mormon  his- 
torian in  pious  gratitude  says:  "There  were  no  gulls  in  the  country 
before  the  Mormons  came."  In  the  slang  meaning  of  that  word,  this 
is  on  a  par  for  facetiousness  with  that  statement  in  the  Book  of  Mor- 
mon :  "  Great  darkness  overspread  the  land  :  yea,  darkness  wherein  a 
fire  could  not  be  kindled  with  the  dryest  wood." 

We  next  try  a  sail  on  the  yacht.  Several  sail-boats  are  now  run  on 
the  lake  by  various  clubs ;  ours  only  held  ten  persons  besides  the  four 
sailors.  A  strong  wind  from  the  north-east  enabled  us  to  make  eight 
miles  an  hour,  the  neat  craft  riding  the  waves  like  a  sea-bird.  But 
when  we  turned  towards  the  point,  and  had  to  take  the  side  waves,  four 
of  the  passengers  suddenly  turned  pale  behind  the  gills.  By  heroic 
efforts  and  frequent  recourse  to  a  black  bottle,  we  kept  down  our 
dinners,  but  at  the  end  of  two  hours  "  chopping  "  were  glad  to  get  on 
solid  ground  again.  At  6  P.  M.  dancing  began,  and  the  latest  comers 
put  through  the  night  in  that  amusement.  Almost  every  public  occa- 
sion in  the  Far  West  begins  or  ends  with  a  dance. 

Space  fails  me  to  describe  in  detail  the  rich  mineral  districts  of 
southern  Utah.  Beaver  County  alone  has  a  dozen  districts  and 
several  hundred  miners.  The  county  contains  almost  every  mineral 
useful  to  man — silver,  iron,  copper,  coal,  kaolin,  and  fire-clay  of  most 
excellent  quality.  Withal,  the  climate  is  singularly  mild  and  equable. 
The  summers  at  Beaver  City  I  found  a  little  cooler  than  at  Salt  Lake : 
the  winter  much  like  that  of  middle  Tennessee,  only  dryer.  The  fer- 
tile valleys  there  would  yield  provisions  for  50,000  people ;  and  with 
the  extension  of  the  railroad  to  that  point  it  will  doubtless  be  the 
richest  region  of  the  South,  the  metropolis  of  southern  Utah  and 
northern  Arizona.  Utah  now  contains  ninety  mining  districts;  the 
mines  and  improvements  are  valued  all  the  way  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
million  dollars,  and  the  annual  yield  of  lead,  silver,  and  gold  has 
reached  five  millions.  All  this  interest  has  been  built  up  since  1869, 
by  the  work  of  those  whom  the  Saints  stigmatize  as  <(  d — d  Gentiles,'' 
and  whom  apologists  for  Brighamcall  "ad  venturers  and  carpet-baggers,'' 


180  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Copper  is  found  in  vast  quantities  in  Tintic  and  some  other  districts, 
but  the  reduction  thereof  has  not  made  much  progress.  Bismuth  ore 
is  found  in  the  southern  counties  in  abundance.  Graphite,  black-lead, 
native  sulphur,  alum,  borax,  carbonate  of  soda,  and  gypsum  are  widely 
disseminated.  Beds  of  the  latter  have  been  discovered  that  will  richly 
pay  for  working.  Salt  is  so  plentiful  as  scarcely  to  be  an  article  of 
commerce.  Near  the  lake,  and  in  many  other  localities,  it  can  be  had 
for  shoveling  into  a  wagon  and  hauling  home.  Fire-clay  and  sand- 
stone are  abundant,  as  is  building  stone  of  every  description,  including 
marble  and  granite.  Kaolin  of  the  finest  quality  abounds.  All  the 
ochres  used  for  polishing,  pigments,  and  lapidary  works  are  in  inex- 
haustible supplies.  The  Territory  will  not  average  one  acre  in  forty 
fit  for  agriculture,  but  nearly  all  the  rest  is  valuable  for  some  kind  of 
mineral.  This  growing  interest  has  created  a  party  in  favor  of  an- 
nexing Utah  to  Nevada.  The  new  State  would  be  about  as  large  as 
Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois  combined,  but  it  takes  some- 
thing more  than  area  to  make  a  State.  The  population  would  be,  per- 
haps, 150,000 — just  about  enough  for  one  member  of.  Congress.  The 
advantages  would  be  immense.  It  would  bring  them  under  the  min- 
ing laws  of  Nevada,  which  are  probably  the  best  in  the  world ;  it 
would  give  the  non-Mormons  a  free  ballot,  and  some  chance  for  repre- 
sentation, and  balance  the  crushing  power  of  the  priesthood  by  a  large 
population  of  miners  and  Americans.  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to 
annex  only  the  two  northern  degrees  first — containing  the  most  mines — 
and  when  Nevada  shall  have  assimulated  them,  add  the  rest.  With 
some  such  consummation  as  this,  I  have  no  doubt  the  American  pub- 
lic would  be  only  too  happy  to  bid  farewell  to  Utah  Territory. 

To  many  Americans  Utah  is  even  yet  a  land  of  mystery — the  home 
of  strange  rites  and  unhallowed  religion ;  but  to  me,  in  its  physical 
features,  it  is  already  as  the  home  of  the  soul.  As  more  and  more  I 
become  familiar  with  it,  I  see  how  little  Mormonism  has  to  do  with  its 
real  greatness,  how  small  a  space  it  will  occupy  in  its  future  history, 
and  what  countless  other  matters  there  are  of  wonder  and  interest. 
•Long  residence  and  frequent  travel  have  made  the  Territory  as  an 
entirety  far  better  known  to  me  than  any  other  part  of  our  country. 
On  the  instant  a  mental  picture,  colossal  in  outline  and  interesting  in 
details,  rises  to  my  vision:  its  snow-clad  peaks  glowing  in  the  clear 
air  of  June,  and  dazzling  white  beneath  the  burning  sun  of  August; 
its  30,000  square  miles  of  rugged  mountains,  seamed  from  side  to  side 
with  mineral  wealth ;  its  cafions  and  cool  retreats ;  its  shadowed  trails 
and  dashing  mountain  streams  swarming  with  trout.  Not  less  roman- 


UTAH  ARGENTIFERA.  181 

tic,  though  mingling  the  useful  and  waste,  and  filling  the  tourist  with 
delight,  are  its  lake  of  pure  brine  covering  4,000  square  miles,  and  its 
25,000  square  miles  of  white  deserts  and  sand  plains ;  its  narrow, 
fertile  valleys  with  irrigating  streams  and  water  tanks,  with  an  orient- 
alized population,  half  pastoral,  half  agricultural,  and  wholly  peculiar 
and  heterogeneous;  its  long,  long  wastes,  crossed  only  by  winding 
trails ;  the  sand  storms  on  the  deserts,  and  the  mild  air  of  the  val- 
leys— all  combining  in  one's  imagination  to  invest  the  picture  with'  a 
charm  which  has  all  the  delight  of  romance,  and  all  the  permanence 
of  reality.  It  does  not  seem  possible  that  a  region  of  such  interest 
should  long  remain  under  the  blighting  domination  of  an  incestuous 
priesthood.  When  the  present  depression  in  business  is  past,  and  the 
mining  development  continues,  this  Territory  must,  ere  many  years, 
reach  an  annual  yield  of  twenty-five  millions  in  minerals.  The  result 
will  be  wealth  and  cultivation,  progress  and  a  fixed  Gentile  population. 
Every  year  there  are  more  permanent  settlers,  and  fewer  hasten  away 
as  soon  as  they  have  made  a  fortune.  With  its  favorable  climate,  and 
the  physical  and  intellectual  culture  to  follow  this  season  of  moral 
storms;  with  a  more  homogeneous  population  and  a  republican  gov- 
ernment, the  result  must  eventually  be  a  state  of  society  in  Utah  which 
will  cause  Mormonism  to  be  forgotten,  or  remembered  only  as  the 
"Stone  Age  in  Art"  is  remembered  by  archaeologists. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A    CHAPTER    OF    BETWEENS. 

It  was  a  horrid  night.  I  had  never  known  the  severe  winter 
weather  to  come  on  so  early  in  Utah;  for  "late  fall  and  late  spring" 
is  the  weather  formula  for  the  mountains.  But  now  the  fierce  wind 
from  the  great  desert  was  sweeping  eastward,  bringing  with  it  inky 
snow-clouds,  and  sending  down  into  the  canons  a  fierce  sleet,  which 
rendered  walking  on  the  mountain  trails  almost  impossible.  From 
our  cabin  on  the  hill  the  saloon  lights  in  Ophir  City  burned  bluely, 
while  every  hour  increased  the  storm  that  gathered  strength  in  Rush 
Valley  and  drove  fiercely  up  the  canon. 

There  should  have  been  comfort  in  shelter  and  warmth ;  but  that 
night  there  was  little  satisfaction  in  Teeter's  cabin,  where  a  half  dozen 
of  us  crouched  over  the  fire  and  grumbled  at  our  luck.  We  had  just 
come  down  from  a  day's  picking  and  blasting  on  Lion  Hill.  The  Ida 
Elmore  Lode,  which  one  month  ago  we  thought  good  for  a  cool  mill- 
ion, was  now  worth  about  $5  in  a  flush  market;  and,  as  for  the  Ad 
Valorem — well,  Teeter  said  the  last  time  he  saw  any  ore  the  vein  was 
about  the  thickness  of  a  knife-blade,  and  pitching  into  the  hill  nearly 
on  a  level,  and  as  crooked  as  a  worm  fence.  That  meant  "  no  regular 
vein — no  continuation — no  depth,"  and,  consequently,  no  selling  value. 
So,  as  aforesaid,  we  bewailed  our  hard  luck. 

Suddenly  out  spoke  Joe  Allkire:  "Behold  me;  I  am  the  Jonah." 

He  was  given  to  odd  figures  of  speech,  but  this  did  not  lessen  our 
surprise ;  for  he  was  the  quietest,  steadiest  man  of  the  lot — just  the 
partner  one  would  have  picked  out  for  luck.  But  he  persisted  :  "  Why 
the  very  town  I  was  "born  in  was  wiped  out — nothing  left  of  it  but  a 
tater  patch." 

"Tell  us  about  it,"  was  the  universal  request.  It  was  something, 
any  thing  to  rid  us  of  unwelcome  thought.  Joe  slowly  filled  his  glass, 
seeing  that  the  quart  bottle  of  valley-tan  already  looked  pretty  sick ; 

and 

"All  were  attentive  to  the  warlike  man, 
When,  stretching  on  his  chair,  he  thus  began  :" 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  I  started  on  the  worst  streak  o'  luck  in  the  State  of 
Illinoy.  I  took  my  first  shot  at  daylight  in  the  town  o'  Union  Flats, 

(182) 


A   CHAPTER   OF  BET  WEENS.  183 

and  in  cloin'  that  I  made  the  big  mistake  o'  my  life.  The  town  was 
settled  by  a  lot  from  Botetour,  Virginia — folks  that  said  '  bin  gone 
done  it,'  and  made  their  women  do  the  milking ;  and  then  come  some 
caow-paling  Yanks  from  C'neticutt,  and  Quakers  from  Pennsylvania, 
and  natives  from  Indiana,  and  so  they  named  it  Union  Flats.  It's 
flat  enough  now,  but  as  to  the  Union — you'll  hear  my  gentle 
voice. 

"  Lemme  see;  there  was  first  Whig  and  Democrats — -just  about  an 
even  divide,  and  stiffer'n  a  liberty  pole  on  both  sides;  but  when  it 
come  to  'lectin'  a  constable,  I  reckon  the  fightinest  man  stood  in  with 
the  boys,  and  as  for  whisky,  wh-e-u-w  !  It  was  sod-corn  barefooted. 
The  valley-tan  these  Mormons  make  ain't  nowhere.  I^mind  old  Mike 
Gardner  drunk  a  pint  of  it,  and  went  home  and  stole  one  of  his  own 
plows  and  hid  it  in  the  woods,  and  didn't  know  where  it  was  when  he 
was  sober,  and  had  to  git  drunk  agin  to  find  it. 

"  These  was  only  the  common  fellers.  The  good  folks  was  awful  re- 
ligious. The  Old  School  Baptisses  never  went  nigh  the  Methodis' 
meetin'  house,  and  tothers  was  jist  as  stiff  on  thar  side;  but  there  was 
a  sprinkle  o'  Quakers  to  soften  things,  and  a  little  blue  spot  o'  Presby- 
tarans,  but  not  enough  for  a  meetin'  house,  bein'  there  was  no 
more'n  six  or  seven  hundred  people  in  the  whole  place.  So  they 
was  only  two  meetin'  houses,  and  three  or  four  groceries  for  whisky  and 
such,  besides  Chew's  store,  which  was  the  only  place  that  sold  bour- 
bon— tothers  only  '  sod-corn.'  Then  they  was  Masons  and  a  lot  of 
Batavy  New  Yorkers  that  was  agin  the  Masons,  and  some  agin  all  se- 
cret societies;  and  along  in  1843  come  some  Millerites,  crazier'n  loons 
about  the  eend  of  all  things  on  the  llth  o'  August, 
and  pretty  soon  after  come  some  Washingtonians  and 
dug  in  agin  Chew  and  the  others  that  sold  whisky,  so 
if  a  feller  wasn't  tuck  on  one  side  he  was  on  tother. 
But  the  boys  soon  busted  them  up,  and,  no  matter  what 
the  prophecies  said,  the  eend  didn't  come  on  the  llth, 
and  things  was  sort  o'  dull  till  these  new-fangled  no- 
tions come  in  and  the  Methodis's  they  set  up  a  choir. 
But  they  was  nigh  half  agin  it,  and  that  set  up  another 
meetin'  at  tother  eend  o'  town,  and  split  folks  all  up  agin.  DEACON  CHEW- 
Then  come  this  nigger  business,  for  it  was  only  forty  miles  to  the  Ohio, 
and  the  new  meetin'  folks  got  a  real  cranky  little  chap  from  some'eres 
East  for  preacher,  and  took  the  abolition  shoot,  and  so  all  the  others 
preached  on  Onesimus,  and  Hagur,  and  '  Cussed  be  Canaan,'  and  things 
got  real  lively  agin. 


184 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


"Next  thing  Misses  Chew  she  split  the  choir  about  leadin'  in  the 
singin' ;  and  when  a  fuss  gits  among  a  lot  o'  singin'  folks,  you  jest  bet 
it  spreads.  She  was  dognation  purty,  and  slung  more  style  than  a 
speckled  show-horse,  and  I  mind  more'n  one  young  fellar  that  felt  like 
he'd  like  to  put  a  spider  in  old  Chew's  biscuit.  He  was  purty  well 
off,  and  jist  doted  on  her,  and  brought  her  shawls  and  all  sorts  o' 
things  from  New  York  ;  but  his  face  was  sort  o'  weazened  up,  and  the 
top  of  his  head  gittin'  above  the  timber  line,  and  not  so  young  and 
gay  as  his  woman  might  have  wanted  him,  and  that  give  the  other 
women  in  the  choir  a  hold.  But  I  sha'n't  dwell ;  you  know  what  they 
said.  Then  the  young  fellers  that  was  invited  to  the  Chewses  got  out 
with  them  that  wasn't,  and  all  the  folks  took  sides — and  there  we  was 

agin.  You  see  folks  in 
these  little  towns  is  so 
neighborly.  They  stand 
by  their  friends  in  a 
fuss  —  you  hear  my 
racket? 

"  Well,  one  day  Joe 
Tucker,  a  long,  gaunt- 
lin'  mud-mummy,  was 
slungin'  along  the  street 
with  a  long,  lean  yaller 
dog  that  allers  follered 
him  every-where,  and 
come  by  where  a  farmer  was  imloadin'  some  wood,  an'  quicker'n  wink 
the  farmer's  big  bull-dog  pitched  into  Joe's,  and  knocked  him  four 
rod,  and  so  scared  Bob  Stevenses',  the  blacksmith's,  wife,  that  was  a 
takin'  her  man  his  dinner,  that  she  yelled  for  all  that  was  out,  and 
keeled  over  agin  the  wagon,  and  her  old  sun-bonnet  a  floppin'  off  and 
her  a  yellin'  scared  the  horses  so  they  broke  loose  and  lit  out  down 
the  street,  like  the  devil  a  beatin'  tan-bark,  and  run  agin  a  ladder 
where  was  John  Baker  a  paintin'  the  up  front  of  Abraham  Miller's 
store,  and  knocked  down  the  ladder,  crippled  poor  John  for  life,  and  up- 
set the  wood  into  Burnstein's  oyster  cellar,  killin'  one  of  Btirnstein's 
children  stone  dead,  and  so  scared  Misses  Burnstein  that  she  dropped  a 
pan  o'  hot  oysters  into  the  lap  of  a  customer,  and  set  him  to  swearin' 
and  dancin'  like  all  possessed. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  if  there  was  any  one  thing  Joe  Tucker  did  love,  it 
was  that  same  long,  lean,  yaller  and  spotted  dog ;  they  was  more  like 
twins  than  Christians,  and  folks  did  say  they  slept  together  in  that  lit- 


1  THEY  BROKE  LOOSE  AND  LIT  OUT  DOWN  THE  STREET." 


A   CHAPTER   OF  BET  WEENS.  185 

tie  den  back  of  Joe's  gun-shop.  So  as  soon  as  he  conceited  what  was 
up,  he  gathered  a  dornick,  and  was  just  drawin'  back  to  send  the 
strange  dog  where  they's  no  fleas,  when  the  stranger  saw  him  and 
went  one  better.  He  had  a  fist  like  the  hand  o'  Providence,  and  when 
it  landed  behind  Joe's  ear  some  folks  thought  it  was  a  fresh  blast  down 
at  the  quarry ;  even  old  Chew  heard  it,  an'  folks  say  Joe  doubled  on 
himself  twice  as  he  went  through  Abraham  Miller's  big  winder. 
Well,  Miller  run  out  and  first  tried  to  stop  the  dogs,  when  the  stranger 
yells  out : 

"'  Let  'em  fight !  My  dog  can  whip  any  dog  in  town,  an'  I  can 
whip  the  owner.' 

"He'd  better  not  a  said  that  last,  for  just  then  Bob  Stevens  run  up, 
rarin'  mad  about  his  wife's  scar,  and  just  in  time  to  hear  them  words, 
and  "the  next  minute  he  let  out  that  blacksmith's  right  o'  his'n, 
and  cut  a  calf  s  nose  on  that  stranger's  jaw.  So  they  went  at  it,  fist 
and  skull,  and  in  about  four  minutes  you 
couldn't  a  told  that  stranger's  face  from  a 
map  o'  this  territory,  it  was  so  full  of  red 
buttes  and  black  deserts. 

"'  Friend,   perhaps  thee   is  equally   mis- 
taken as  to  thy  dog,'  was  all  that  Abraham 
Miller  said,  for  he  was  a  real  quiet  man,  but 
he  did  have  some  pride  about  his  town,  so         <<AND  THEY  CLINCHEI).» 
he  went  into  the  back-yard  and  onloosed  a 

regular  old  English  bull  that  he  kept  in  the  store  nights,  and  it  was 
just  beautiful  to  see  that  dog  go  to  the  relief  of  Tucker's,  an'  between 
'em  they  soon  put  the  strange  dog  to  his  trumps.  As  Abraham  stood 
over  'em  to  see  fair  play,  the  Methodis'  preacher  come  up,  and  sez  he, 
'  Fie  on  you,  men,  citizens  of  Union  Flats,  to  get  up  a  dog-fight  right 
in  the  face  of  day,'  and  was  raisin'  his  cane  when  Abraham  gave  him 
a  gentle  shove,  and  he  yelled  out  that  he  was  struck — them  Boston 
chaps  is  so  tender. 

"'I  struck  thee  not,  friend,'  said  Abraham. 

"  (  You  did,  sir.' 

"  '  But  thee  draws  wrong  conclusions.' 

"  f  Sir,  you  mistake  facts.' 

" (  Thee  utters  a  mendacious  assertion.' 

" '  You  tell  an  infernal  lie,'  bawled  the  preacher,  and  they  clinched. 
Well,  of  course  a  thin  Boston  bran-bread  chap  had  no  show  agin  one 
o'  our  corn-fed  men,  and  Abraham  was  about  to  mash  him,  when 
most  o'  the  men  in  town  bein'  there  by  this  time,  the  preacher's  con- 


186 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


gregation  turned  in  to  help,  when  Abraham's  clerks  run  in  to  back 
their  boss,  and  in  less  time'n  I  tell  it  in  they  was  six  or  eight  on  a 
side,  fightin'  across  toward  the  Court-house,  and  leavin'  a  red  trail  as 
they  went.  It  was  jist  beautiful  to  see  'em  peel ;  we  don't  have  any 
such  fun  in  Utah. 

"  But  it  happened  the  stranger  with  the  wood  was  a  Mason,  and  he 
had  some  friends  down  at  Chew's,  an'  in  three  minutes  after  he  got 
away  from  Bob  he  had  'em  out  in  line,  and  along  with  'em  old  Chew — 
drunk  on  his  own  whisky  for  a  wonder — brandishin'  a  green  ax  helve, 
and  swearin'  by  the  great  horn  spoon  of  the  Ancient  Scottish  Rites 

that  he  could  whip  any  Morgan  man  in 
Union  Flats  or  sixty  miles  round. 
He'd  jest  got  the  words  outen  his 
mouth  when  one  of  the  Batavy  New 
Yorkers  sez  he,  ( I  don't  take  that  from 
no  Morgan  killer/  and  fetched  ole 
Chew  one  that  drapped  him.  Then 
they  did  have  it  beautiful.  I  reckon 
they  was  about  twenty-five  Masons  in 
town,  and  they  lit  on  the  Yorker  and 

"HAI.FTHETOWNTOOKASHYATHIM."     ^   frfc^   and  druy  -^    fa^    -^   j^ 

ler's  store,  when  they  forted  and  held  their  own,  and  they  daresn't  an 
anti-mason  show  hisself. 

"But  'twant  for  long.  In  jist  no  time  they  come  up  heavy,  and 
with  'em  the  folks  that  was  down  on  the  Chewses,  and  the  women 
egged  on  the  men,  and  in  fourteen  minutes  they  went  through  the 
Chewses  and  their  party  like  alkali  water  through  a  Johnny  raw  from 
the  States.  They  might  a  got  it  stopped  then,  but  old  Colonel  Darby 
galloped  into  town  (his  wife  was  one  of  the  Virginny  Mason  family), 
and  he  yells  out,  'It's  all  on  account  of  the  infernal  abolishnists; 
they'd  out  to  be  druv  outer  the  town,'  and  that  gave  the  thing  a  new 
turn.  The  new  meetin'  folks  joined  in  with  their  preacher,  and  all 
the  Darbys  yelled  to  go  for  the  abolishnists,  and  the  last  man  in  town 
was  in  it  in  three  minutes.  Old  'Squire  Hooker,  the  head  abolition 
man,  run  outen  his  house  like  mad,  yellin'  for  freedom  or  death,  and 
it  looked  like  half  the  town  took  a  shy  at  him.  The  dornicks  and 
brick  flew  like  distraction,  and  one  as  big  as  my  fist  went  through  the 
winder  and  into  the  parlor,  where  it  hit  Maria  Hooker  square  in  the 
bosom,  and  broke  two  of  Bob  Carter's  fingers,  that  was  payin'  his  at- 
tentions to  her.  The  constable  rushed  in  and  was  jammed  through 
the  jeweler's  window,  the  preacher  was  knocked  clear  out  o'  all  like- 


A   CHAPTER  OF  BETWEENS.  187 

ness,  and  'Squire  Hooker  and  a  dozen  other  abolishnists  shamefully 
whipped. 

"  By  this  time  the  Irish  at  work  on  the  grade  got  wind  of  a  free 
fight,  and  they  double-quicked  into  town  and  lit  in  generally,  and 
Miss  June  Davis's  man  thought  it  was  a  good  time  to  get  even  with 
the  Wrights,  and  about  forty  fellers  concluded  to  pay  oif  old  scores ; 
and  the  grand  jury  that  was  in  session  up  stairs  in  the  Court-house 
come  runnin'  down,  and  upset  the  stove,  and  in  less'n  four  minutes  the 
old  shell  was  all  ablaze,  and  the  fighters  set  two  or  three  more  houses 
afire,  and  in  an  hour  all  the  heart  of  the  town  was  burned  out,  an'  all 
the  little  men  badly  whipped  that  hadn't  run  away; 
for  the  fightin'  kept  up  more  or  less  for  three  hours, 
and  never  stopped  till  every  body  was  satisfied.  I 
mind  well  the  last  man  out  was  little  Si  Duvall,  a 
splintery  feller  with  no  legs  to  speak  of,  and  every 
body  said  no  account,  and  that  you  couldn't  make  any 
thing  outen  him,  'less  it  was  a  preacher  or  a  school- 
teacher. But  they  wan't  no  exemptions  in  that  war, 
and  Si  had  to  go  in  along  with  the  rest.  You  see  it 
don't  take  much  to  start  a  fuss  when  they's  blood  in  THE  SEAT  OF  WAK> 
the  air;  and  an  independent  people  will  have  their  little  differences  in 
the  glorious  air  of  the  free  and  boundless  West.  An'  I  reckon  they 
was  fusses  settled  there  that  had  been  runnin'  for  twenty  years — 
neighbors  that  had  quarreled  about  jinin  fences,  and  relatives  that  had 
lawed  about  settlin*  estates,  and  men  that  got  cheated  in  hoss  trades — 
every  man  got  full  satisfaction,  and  the  books  was  squared." 

"Is  that  all?"  I  asked,  seeing  that  he  made  a  long  pause. 

"  It's  all  the  liquor,"  said  Joe,  gazing  regretfully  at  the  black  bottle 
which  had  held  our  last  supply ;  "  but  of  the  history  they's  a  few  more 
pints,  and  at  your  service." 

"  Well,  the  town  was  half  burned  up,  and  its  character  ruined,  and 
all  the  whisky  spilt,  and  the  constable  and  sheriff  and  'Squire  Hooker 
and  about  fifty  more,  badly  whipped,  and  the  dog  that  started  it  all  so 
chawed  up  a  Chinaman  couldn't  'a  made  him  over  into  chow-chow^ 
and  the  row  only  stopped  when  a  big  thunder  shower  separated  the 
forces — and  then  they  was  peace.  But  Misses  Chew  declared  she 
wouldn't  live  in  no  such  a  heathen  country,  and  they  moved  back 
East,  and  so  the  neighborhood  lost  tone ;  an'  the  new  preacher,  what 
was  left  of  him,  had  a  call  to  go  further  north,  for  he  'lowed  a  man 
with  one  ear  chawed  off  might  be  ornamental,  but  couldn't  shine  in  a 
pulpit  in  Southern  Illinois;  and  Abraham  Miller  was  so  disgusted 


188  WESTERN  WILDS. 

with  himself  about  breakin'  the  rules  and  fightin'  that  he  took  to  his 
bed,  and  his  new  store  went  all  to  shacks;  an'  all  the  abolishnists  left, 
too,  and  the  Virginny  people  swore  the  place  had  no  style  about  it 
anyhow,  and  they  moved,  and  some  o'  the  houses  was  hauled  off  into 
the  country,  and  the  rest  was  took  by  a  big  fresh,  and  you  won't  find 
any  thing  there  now  but  a  corn-crib  or  two.  And  all  that  from  one 
dog-fight. 

"But  so  'twas  nobody  from  that  town  ever  had  any  luck,  'cept  that 
same  little  splintery  Si  Duvall.  He  went  off  to  Oregon  and  got  to  be 
a  lawyer,  and  went  to  the  legislator,  an'  was  in  the  big  land  commis- 
sion, and  jest  coined  money;  but,  after  all,  the  luck  o'  Union  Flats 
overtook  him  at  last.  He  up  an'  married  one  o'  them  school-marms 
sent  out  from  Boston,  and  when  they  took  their  tower  down  to  Frisco, 
she  got  sea-sick  and  th rowed  up  all  her  teeth,  that  Si  thought  was  so 
pretty  an'  regular ;  and  Si  tried  for  a  divorce,  and  said  it  was  failure 
o'  consideration  an'  fraud  in  the  contract,  an'  not  the  goods  he  bar- 
gained for  at  all,  but  the  judga  differed  with  him,  an'  he  had  to  sup- 
port her.  So  you  see,  boys,  my  luck's  bound  to  foller  me,  and  until  I 
leave  the  outfit  you'll  strike  no  horn  silver  on  this  hill." 

The  whisky  being  exhausted,  the  conversation  now  took  a  more 
serious  turn.  There  were  accounts  of  the  great  "Frazer  River  Ex- 
citement," when  the  miners  rushed  off  to  British  Columbia,  and  most 
of  them  came  back  minus ;  of  the  stampede  into  Sun  River  Gulch ; 
of  the  Calaveras  frauds,  and  the  mob  that  hanged  the  perpetrators — 
for  our  miners  were  men  who  had  tempted  fortune  in  many  fields. 
There  were  blood-curdling  tales  of  Indian  massacres ;  sad  narrations  of 
toil  and  exposure  on  the  cold  mountain-side  or  the  wind-swept  desert; 
and  depressing  stories  of  the  long,  long  search  for  gold  which  had 
still  evaded  the  prospector.  I  was  particularly  struck  by  one  ac- 
count, given  by  a  weather-beaten  mountaineer  of  sixty  years,  whose 
memory  ran  back  to  the  time  when  trappers  and  hunters  constituted 
the  sole  white  population  west  of  the  Missouri.  As  his  style  was 
obscure,  I  venture  to  give  the  story  in  my  own  language : 

It  was  the  good  old  time — the  grand,  good  old  time — when  buffalo  by 
thousands  came  within  two  days'  ride  of  the  Missouri ;  when  beaver 
dams  adorned  every  stream  in  the  mountains ;  when  the  wild  horse 
ranged  from  Laramie  Plains  to  the  Rio  Grande ;  when  the  Indians 
welcomed  the  trapper  and  trader,  though  they  still  fought  the  soldier 
and  emigrant;  and  the  nomadic  plainsman  could  ride  two  thousand 
miles  in  a  right  line  without  sight  of  a  human  habitation.  Then 
Clear  Creek,  Colorado,  was  lively  with  beaver;  then  the  mountain 


"A    CHAPTER   OF  BET  WEENS. 


189 


sheep  threaded  a  hundred  trails  on  the  eastern  slope;  the  migration 
of  the  buffalo  was  as  regular  and  certain  as  the  return  of  the  May 
sunshine,  and  every  wooded  canon  invited  the  hunter  to  rest  and  a 
gamy  feast.  The  trapper  looked  upon  two  parts  of  the  earth  as  ter- 
restrial paradises :  in  the  Mexican  settlements  of  California,  or  the 
towns  on  the  Rio  Grande.  When  rare  good  fortune  carried  him  that 


"  WHERE  WARKING  TRIBES  MET  IN  PEACE." 


way,  he  could  dance,  and  drink,  and  make  love  with  the  bright-eyed 
smoritas;  then,  when  pleasure  palled,  be  off  again  for  the  life-giving 
air  of  the  mountain,  the  canon  and  the  desert. 

These  towns  were    neutral  ground,  where  warring   tribes    met  in 
peace,  and  white  and  Mexican  danced  and  drank,  and  danced  the  jolly 


190  WESTERN    WILDS. 

hours  away.  The  white  cross  of  the  chapel,  without  which  no  Mexi- 
can town  can  be  called  a  pueblo,  spoke  peace  to  all ;  the  priest  joined 
heartily  in  all  the  sports,  and  stood  ready  to  grant  extreme  unction  if 
aguardiente  and  gambling  resulted  in  fatal  "  accidents."  On  the 
plaza,  every  die  de  fiesta,  was  gathered  a  motly  crowd  :  the  plains 
Indian  exhibited  his  wild  horsemanship;  the  senorita  coquettishly 
flaunted  her  rebosa  before  the  admiring  hunter ;  the  Mexican  lost  his 
all  or  won  a  little  fortune  at  monte,  and  even  the  boys  took  their  first 
lesson  by  pitching  for  quartillas. 

St.  Louis  the  trapper  must  sometimes  visit,  to  sell  the  proceeds 
of  his  hunting  and  lay  in  supplies ;  but  it  was  not  his  choice  to 
linger  there  long.  How  could  he  contentedly  tread  the  pavements 
who  had  trod  the  green  turf  of  the  prairie  ?  how  could  he  rejoice  in 
city  air,  having  breathed  the  sweet  air  of  the  mountains?  His  gains 
were  often  great.  More  than  one  trapper  has  realized  two  thousand 
dollars  from  the  proceeds  of  a  single  season.  These  were  spent  with 
reckless  generosity,  and  then  he  was  off  again  to  range  from  Huerfano 
to  the  Yellowstone,  and  from  the  Black  Hills  to  the  Salt  Lake.  Such 
a  time  it  was,  when  Will  and  Bob  McAfee  set  out  from  San  Luis  Park 
to  make  a  hurried  trip  to  St.  Louis. 

It  was  their  year  of  good  fortune,  and  they  hurried  down  the  Ar- 
kansas to  cash  their  wealth  of  furs  and  return  before  the  late  mild 
autumn  should  give  place  to  the  biting  winter  of  the  plains.  With 
what  joy  the  returning  plainsman  hails  the  first  sight  of  heavy  timber! 
Will  and  Bob  had  got  far  enough  down  the  river  to  find  dense  groves, 
and  in  one  of  these,  late  in  October,  they  prepared  to  camp  for  the 
night.  But  Will,  the  older  and  more  experienced,  grew  strangely 
nervous  at  sight  of  the  dead  trees  standing  so  thickly  among  the 
live  ones,  and  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  river  bluffs  came  in 
close  to  the  stream,  and  rose  almost  perpendicular;  in  fact,  that  this 
was  a  canon  rather  than  a  valley. 

"  Bob,  do  you  see  these  dead  trunks,  and  the  way  this  gorge  opens 
east  and  west — and  it's  the  time  for  storms  now — d'ye  remember  what 
father  once  told  us  about  such  a  place  as  this?" 

"  Git  out/'  said  Bob,  "no  old  stories  now.  Don't  ketch  me  campin5 
out  on  the  perrairie  to-night." 

Will  yielded,  but  his  heart  was  heavy  with  forebodings  of  danger; 
their  evening  was  dull,  despite  the  jocular  style  and  sprightly  sallies 
of  Bob,  who  recounted  the  pleasures  of  a  brief  stay  in  St.  Louis.  The 
animals  were  picketed,  and  the  trappers  lay  down  wrapped  in  their 
blankets,  each  upon  a  pile  of  dry  bark,  which  served  them  here  in- 


A  CHAPTER  OF  BET  WEENS.  191 

stead  of  their  mountain  bed  of  pine  boughs.  They  slept  the  sound, 
sweet  sleep  of  tired  men  whoso  only  nurse  was  nature ;  pure  air  and 
water  their  stimulants.  Suddenly,  said  Bob,  in  the  only  account  he 
ever  gave  of  it,  "  We  were  raised  by  a  roar  as  if  heaven  and  earth 
were  coming  together."  He  sprang  up  bewildered.  The  heavens 
were  lit  by  the  glare  of  lightning;  the  next  instant  inky  blackness 
succeeded,  and  then  thunder,  which  shook  the  foundation  of  the  neigh- 
boringHiills.  The  autumn  storm  had  come  with  unusual  suddenness 
and  force,  and  they  were  in  the  mouth  of  a  natural  tunnel. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  air  was  comparatively  calm,  while  the  electric 
glare  illumined  the  grove,  and  thunder  rendered  conversation  impossi- 
ble. For  an  instant  there  was  silence,  and  after  it  a  great  moving 
mountain  of  air  swept  down  the  gorge,  and  then  the  wind  and  rain- 
storm was  upon  them  in  all  its  fury.  Bob  felt  himself  hurled  back- 
ward, but  with  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  sprang  behind  an 
immense  green  tree,  whose  spreading  roots  seemed  to  bid  defiance  to 
the  blast.  He  screamed  with  all  the  force  of  his  lungs  to  Bill,  but 
there  was  no  response.  The  dead  trees  snapped  like  pipe-stems;  the 
rain  and  wind  drowned  his  loudest  cries.  He  saw  that  two  dead 
trunks  had  fallen  on  either  side  of  the  tree  that  sheltered  him;  but 
only  noted  that  this  added  to  his  safety,  and  redoubled  his  cries  for 
his  brother.  But  no  answer. 

In  two  hours  the  storm  ceased  almost  as  suddenly  as  it  had  risen, 
and  daylight  showed  the  fearful  ruin  it  had  wrought.  The  forest  of 
yesterday  was  a  tangled,  almost  impassable  jungle.  Only  a  few  of  the 
largest  trees  still  stood.  Bob  gazed  around  him,  marveling  at  his 
safety,  then  shouted  with  all  his  strength  for  Will.  There  was  a 
faint,  mdurnful  response  from  somewhere  near ;  it  seemed  almost  under 
his  feet.  He  climbed  hurriedly  over  the  logs  about  him,  and  shouted 
again.  Again  came  that  feeble  response.  His  heart  gave  a  great 
bound,  and  then  stood  still.  That  was  not  the  voice  of  the  deep- 
chested  and  lusty  mountaineer  of  yesterday ;  it  was  rather  the  moan  of 
a  sick  woman  or  fretful  child.  Again  came  the  faint  call,  this  time  in 
words. 

"  Bob,  for  God's  sake,  come." 

In  a  shallow  ravine  before  him  was  his  brother.  But  what  a  sight ! 
Will  lay  upon  his  back,  alive  and  conscious;  but  his  legs  were  crushed 
beneath  an  enormous  trunk,  which  pinned  him  to  the  earth. 

Bob  sprang  forward  and  madly  tugged  at  the  weight,  which  would 
have  resisted  the  united  strength  of  hundreds.  The  imprisoned  hunter 
smiled,  then  groaned  with  a  s,udden  spasm  of  pain. 


192  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"  Bring  me  some  water,.  Bob,  and  listen  to  the  few  words  1  can 
speak." 

Refreshed  by  the  draught,  he  went  on : 

"Do  you  love  me,  Bob?" 

The  stalwart,  unwouuded  man  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"Would  you  do  me  the  greatest  favor  man  can  do  another?  Would 
you  hurt  your  own  heart  for  meV  Would  you  save  me  days,  arid 
nights  of  misery?  'Cause,  if  you  would,  Bob,  there's  jist  one  thing 
for  you  to  do."  And  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  pistol  in  Bob's  belt. 

"Oh,  don't  say  that,  Bill.  For  the  Lord's  own  sweet  sake,  don't 
say  that.  Any  thing  else.  I'll  start  now  and  bring  help." 

"  Help!  "  said  Will,  with  the  faintest  touch  of  sarcasm  in  his  falter- 
ing tones;  "help;  the  nearest  white  man's  three  hundred  miles  away, 
and  where  '  d  I  be  by  the  time  ye  got  back  ?  Don't  ye  see  I  can't 
live?" 

"But  I  will  get  the  ax  and  chop  the  log  off  ye;  I'll  get  ye  out." 

"No  use,  Bob,  no  use.  It's  only  a  matter  of  how  and  when  I'll  go 
under.  Can't  you  see  I'm  rubbed  out  ?  I've  pinked  my  last  buff 'ler 
— I've  set  the  last  trap  in  this  world.  Would  you  let  me  lay  here 
days  and  days  and  suffer  ten  thousand  deaths  ?  No,  Bob,  do  as  I  bid 
ye.  Don't  be  chicken-hearted.  Jest  one  ball  from  that  pistol — and 
right  in  the  head,  Bob,  right  in  the  head.  Oh,  dear  boy,  why  won't 
you  help  me?" 

The  uninjured  brother  sank  trembling  on  the  ground;  clasped  Will 
around  the  neck,  and  with  strong,  crying  tears  begged  the  sufferer  to 
spare  him  this. 

"Brother,"  said  the  wounded  man,  a  strange,  tremulous  sweetness 
in  his  voice,  "do  you  mind  the  days  when  we  played  among  the  lime- 
stone hills  in  old  Kaintuck — and  what  our  grandfather  McAfee  told 
us  about  the  Injun  troubles  when  he  was  young — an'  the  kind  o'  blood 
there  was  in  our  family?  Do  ye  mind  it,  Bob?  Ain't  the  blood  there 
yit  ?  I  ain't  afeared  to  die,  but  think  o'  layin'  here,  or  anywhere  else, 
an'  dyin'  by  inches!  I'm  right  in  the  head  now— soon  I'll  be  in  a 
fever,  an'  then — but  you'll  help  me  out,  Bob,  won't  you?  No  one 
will  ever  blame  ye.  I  ask  it ;  I,  your  brother,  beg  it  of  ye — the  last 
favor  ye  can  do  me."  And  he  struggled  to  raise  the  pistol  with  his 
own  hands,  then  sank  back  exhausted,  his  gaze  turned  imploringly  to 

his  brother. 

####**### 

The  awful  confeVence  was  over,  and  the  deed  was  done.  Will 
McAfee  lay  dead  with  a  ball  in  his  brain,  sent  there  by  his  broth- 


A  CHAPTER   OF  BET  WEENS.  193 

er's  hand,  and  Bob  fled  from  the  spot,  unable  to  look  upon  his  work. 
But  it  was  not  an  act,  however  justified  by  mountain  ethics,  which  the 
doer  could  blot  from  his  memory.  The  light-hearted  mountaineer 
returned  to  his  former  haunts  a  morose  and  gloomy  man.  His  asso- 
ciates, one  and  all,  excused  the  deed ;  it  was  what  they  would  have 
done  in  like  circumstances.  "  But  woe,  woe,  unutterable  woe,  to  those 
who  spill  life's  sacred  stream."  That  instinct  is  too  deeply  implanted 
in  the  human  breast. 

Bob  grew  solitary  in  his  habits,  and  finally  disappeared.  Ten  years 
afterwards  a  party  of  hunters  penetrated  one  of  the  many  obscure  and 
difficult  cafions  that  open  westward  from  the  Saguache  Range,  and  to 
their  astonishment  came  upon  the  rude  cabin  of  a  hermit.  Within 
they  found  an  occupant  who  neither  moved  nor  spoke  at  their  ap- 
proach. Long,  snow-white  hair  and  beard  nearly  concealed  an  aged 
face,  on  which  the  rugged  lines  and  leathery  skin  seemed  the  marks  of 
a  century  of  suffering.  His  sunken,  unwinking  eyes  gazed  into  va- 
cancy, his  form  so  still  that  the  astonished  hunters  could  not  be  certain 
that  he  lived  till  one  laid  hand  upon  his  arm.  Then  starting  sud- 
denly from  his  seat,  the  hermit  cried : 

"  He  is  dead,  he  is  dead,  and  I  soon  shall  follow  him ! "  and  with 
all  the  strength  of  his  rheumatic  limbs  the  unhappy  parricide  sought 
to  push  them  from  the  living  tomb. 

But  contact  with  men  brought  health  to  his  mind,  and  the  only 
remaining  week  of  his  life  was  one  of  peace  and  resignation.  Cheered 
by  the  kind  ministrations  of  the  hunters,  Bob  McAfee  sank  to  rest, 
and  the  unfortunate  brothers  were  reunited,  let  us  hope,  in  a  land 
where  motives  are  judged  as  well  as  conduct. 
13 


CHAPTEH    XIII. 

OKLAHOMA. 

THE  year  1872  opened  with  a  revival  of  interest  in  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  Railroad,  otherwise  known  as  the  Thirty-fifth  Parallel 
Route.  This  road  was  already  completed  from  St.  Louis  to  Vinita,  in 
the  Indian  Territory,  and  was  to  run  thence  westward  to  the  R-io 
Grande,  and  through  a  succession  of  valleys  and  passes,  nearly  on  the 
line  of  the  thirty-fifth  parallel,  to  California,  terminating  at  San  Fran- 
cisco. That  city  and  St.  Louis  had  struck  hands  on  the  project; 
thirty-five  million  dollars  had  been  pledged ;  it  was  the  era  of  specu- 
lative railroad  construction,  and  we  were  promised  an  early  completion 
of  the  line.  I  determined  to  traverse  the  proposed  route — or  as  much 
of  it  as  possible — on  horseback,  and  give  the  world  an  impartial  re- 
port. 

Bonneville,  the  early  explorer,  immortalized  by  the  genius  of  Irving, 
had  confidently  named  this  as  the  best  route;  Kit  Carson  had  been 
earnest  in  its  favor,  and  Government  early  had  it  surveyed.  But 
Fremont's  worjc  made  the  nation  more  familiar  with  the  northern 
route ;  the  war  came,  and  the  South  lost  her  chance.  With  the  return 
of  peace  both  southern  lines  were  aided  by  grants  of  land;  but  Tom 
Scott's  Texas  Pacific  has  again  got  the  start. 

Spring  wras  just  tinging  the  prairies  with  a  pale  green  when  I  en- 
tered the  country  of  the  Cherokees,  and  soon  after  crossing  Grand 
River  passed  a  heavy  wooded  strip,  and  in  the  next  prairie  found  the 
terminus  town  of  Vinita.  Here  the  Missouri,  Kansas  &  Texas  Rail- 
road crosses  the  A.  &  P.,  and  here  we  should  naturally  expect  to  see  a 
place.  In  Kansas  or  Nebraska  we  should  see  a  city  with  lots  selling 
at  from  one  hundred  to  two  thousand  dollars,  dwellings  and  stores 
going  up  on  every  hand,  one  or  two  live  journals  blowing  the  place  as 
the  "  future  metropolis  of  the  boundless  West,  the  last  great  chance  for 
profitable  investment,"  etc.,  and  a  dozen  streets  lively  with  the  rattle 
of  commerce.  Here,  we  see  nothing.  We  feel  the  dead  calm  of  stag- 
nation ;  we  breathe  the  atmosphere  of  laziness.  There  is  one  tolerable 
hotel,  one  stone  store,  and  two  frame  ones,  kept  respectively  by  a 
Cherokee  and  a  Delaware;  and,  besides  the  railroad  employes,  there 

(194) 


OKLAHOMA. 


195 


"FINE  FIELD  FOR  THE  ETHNOLOGIST." 


is  a  population  of  perhaps  a  hundred — a  few  good  men,  more  shiftless 
whites,  average  Indians,  and  suspicious-looking  half-breeds. 

For  five  weeks  I  wandered  about  the  Indian  Territory,  a  pleasant 
sort  of  half  wilderness  for  a  Bohemian  to  recreate  in.  Here  are  pure- 
blooded  Aborigines  who  are  something  more  than  hunters  and  root-dig- 
gers ;  here  are  republican  governments  run  on  aboriginal  principles,  with 
aboriginal  ^)fficial  titles,  and  such  a 
mixture  of  races  as  affords  a  fine 
field  for  the  ethnologist.  One 
meets  with  some  awkward  surprises, 
with  facts  that  unsettle  a  great  deal 
we  had  considered  settled.  A  re- 
gion half  as  large  as  Ohio  (exclud- 
ing the  sand-hills  and  deserts)  has 
some  60,000  inhabitants :  a  people 
rich  in  flocks  and  herds,  enjoying 
themselves  in  a  simple,  pastoral 
way,  content  with  their  mode  of  life,  and  indifferent  to  the  rush  and 
struggle  of  more  artificial  societies.  One  may  travel  for  hundreds  of 
miles  on  the  public  roads  and  never  see  a  full-blooded  Indian;  yet 
such  are  in  the  majority,  as  shown  by  the  census.  They  usually  live 
off  the  roads  and'  in  the  timber  along  the  streams. 

The  mild  warmth  of  a  March  Sabbath  in  that  latitude  led  me  to 
make  an  excursion  down  Cabin  Creek  to  a  log  church  and  school- 
house,  where  I  found  a  congregation  of  fifty-two  persons.  There 
were  all  shades,  from  African  black  to  pure  white  with  blue  eyes  and 
flaxen  hair.  There  were  families  of  half  a  dozen  each,  representing 
three  or  four  types  of  the  half-breed.  One  very  intelligent  gentle- 
man told  me  he  had  a  family  of  nine — of  just  nine  different  shades — 
from  pure  white  to  almost  pure  Indian.  His  first  wife  was  half 
Shawnee,  from  Canada,  and  her  first  husband  a  full-blood  Cherokee, 
the  three  children  of  that  union  being  rather  dark.  By  this  woman 
he  had  four  children,  only  quarter  blood,  but  varying  greatly  in  com- 
plexion. After  her  death  he  married  a  blonde  Irish  woman;  they 
had  two  children,  one  a  clear-skinned,  freckled,  blue-eyed  Celt,  the 
other  dark  enough  to  pass  for  a  "White  Cherokee." 

"  It's  singular  how  it  will  come  back  in  this  country,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  I  've  known  'em  to  have  regular  Injun  children  after  two 
generations  of  nearly  white,  and  children  of  pure  white  people  born 
here  are  often  very  dark.  I  know  two  White  Cherokees,  married, 
that  you  could  n't  tell  either  of  'em  from  a  regular  white  person,  and 


196  WESTERN  WILDS. 

they've  a  whole  family  of  nearly  half-bloods.  Old  Injuns  say  it 
comes  back  on  Jem  sonietines  after  people  have  done  forgot  they  had 
any  Injun  blood  in  'em."  Even  so  Europeans  resident  in  Asia  often 
have  children  that  look  like  little  Asiatics. 

Our  preacher  was  a  white  man,  but  a  citizen  of  the  Cherokee  Na- 
tion ;  and  the  society  was  Baptist,  as  are  a  majority  of  Cherokee 
Christians.  The  Methodists,  Presbyterians,  Moravians,  and  Episco- 
palians also  have  churches  in  the  Territory.  The  Senccas  alone,  of 
all  the  located  tribes,  retain  their  aboriginal  heathenism.  That  entire 
tribe  numbered  then  but  ninety  persons,  including  one  baby.  They 
occupy  a  township  in  the  north-eastern  part  of  the  Cherokee  country, 
where  sacrifices,  incantations,  and  a  separate  priesthood  arc  still  main- 
tained. They  stroke  their  faces  to  the  moon;  and  once  a  year  burn  a 
certain  number  of  dogs  to  propitiate  the  spirit  of  evil.  These,  with 
offerings  of  fruits,  serve  them  instead  of  incense  and  holy  water. 

Traveling  northward  through  the  Cherokee  country,  I  reached  the 
Kansas  line  at  Chetopa,  and  witlr  amazing  suddenness  passed  from  a 
wilderness  to  a  thickly  settled  country.  -  From  east  to  west,  far  as 
the  eye  can  see,  extends  a  marked  line  of  division  between  State  and 
"  Nation : "  on  the  south  an  unbroken  prairie,  on  the  north  farms, 
orchards,  neat  dwellings,  and  thriving  villages.  If  one  side  of  Broad- 
way should  utterly  vanish,  leaving  a  vacant  plain,  the  other  side  re- 
maining as  it  is,  the  contrast  could  scarcely  be  greater.  It  is  a  power- 
ful argument,  and  one  in  constant  use  in  favor  of  congressional  action 
to  open  the  Territory  to  white  settlement.  Thence,  after  a  short  visit, 
I  took  the  southward  train  on  the  Missouri,  Kansas  &  Texas  Railroad, 
having  meanwhile  been  joined  by  Mr.  C.  G.  De  Bruler,  of  the  Cincin- 
nati Times.  The  road  was  then  completed  but  ninety  miles  into  the 
Territory,  and  at  midnight  we  stopped  at  the  new  town  of  Muscogee, 
in  the  Muskokee  or  Creek  Nation. 

We  opened  our  eyes  next  morning  upon  a  long,  straggling,  mis- 
erable railroad  town,  the  exact  image  of  a  Union  Pacific  "city,"  in 
the  last  stages  of  decay.  Some  two  hundred  yards  from  the  railroad, 
a  single  street  extended  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile ;  the  buildings 
were  rude  shanties,  frame  and  canvas  tents,  and  log  cabins,  open  to 
the  wind,  which  blew  a  hurricane  for  the  thirty-six  hours  we  were 
there.  If  Mr.  Lo,  "the  poor  Indian,"  does  in  fact  "see  God  in  the 
clouds  and  hear  Him  in  the  wind"  as  the  poet  tells  us,  he  has  a  simple 
and  benign  creed  which  gives  him  an  audible  and  ever-present  deity 
in  this  country,  for  the  wind  is  constant  and  of  a  character  to  prevent 
forgetful  ness.  The  weather  is  mild  and  pleasant  enough,  but  walking 


OKLAHOMA.  197 

against  the  wind  is  very  laborious,  and  the  howling  so  constant  as  to 
make  conversation  difficult  inside  a  tent.  I  have  observed  in  my 
travels  that  windy  countries  are  generally  healthful,  but  a  different 
report  is  given  here.  They  say  bilious  diseases  of  all  kinds  prevail, 
and  complain  particularly  of  fever,  ague,  and  pneumonia. 

We  ate  in  the  "  Pioneer  Boarding  Car,"  and  slept  in  another  car 
attached ;  fwe  of  them  being  placed  on  a  side  track,  anchored  down, 
and  converted  into  a  pretty  good  hotel.  Here,  and  about  the  depot, 
were  the  citizens  employed  on  the  road.  Of  the  town  proper,  a  ma- 
jority of  the  citizens  were  negroes,  formerly  slaves  to  the  Indians. 
Slavery  here  was  never  severe,  and  they  are  little  more  their  own 
masters  than  before.  They  earn  a  precarious  subsistence,  the  women 
by  washing  and  the  men  by  teaming  and  chopping,  and  were  all 
sunk  deep,  deep  in  poverty  and  ignorance.  All  day  the  wenches 
were  strolling  about  in  groups,  bareheaded,  barefooted,  half  naked, 
stupid-looking,  ragged,  and  destitute.  But  all  around  them  was 
nature's  wealth,  needing  only  industry  to  create  plenty.  Fertile  prai- 
ries, even  now  rivaling  Ohio  meadows  in  May,  rolled  away  for  miles 
to  the  north  and  east ;  beyond  them  the  heavy  line  of  timber  marked 
the  course  of  the  Arkansas. 

The  records  of  Muscogee  are  bloody.  During  the  five  weeks  the' 
terminus  business  and  stage  offices  were  there  and  at  Gibson,  sixteen 
murders  were  committed  at  these  two  places,  and  in  a  very  short  time 
five  men  were  killed  at  the  next  terminus.  One  man  was  shot  all  to 
pieces  just  in  front  of  the  dining-car  at  Muscogee,  and  another  had 
his  throat  cut  at  night,  almost  in  the  middle  of  the  town.  It  is  true, 
strangers,  travelers,  and  outsiders  are  rarely  if  ever  troubled.  These 
murders  are  upon  their  own  class,  and  new-comers  who  are  weak 
enough  to  mix  in,  drink  and  gamble  with  them.  But  a  few  days 
before  our  arrival,  a  Texan  reached  Canadian  Station  with  the  pro- 
ceeds of  a  cattle  sale.  He  met  these  fellows  at  night,  was  seen  at  10 
o'clock  with  them,  drunk  and  generous  with  his  money ;  a  few  days 
after  his  body  was  washed  ashore  some  miles  down  the  Canadian. 
And  yet  I  am  assured,  and  believe  it,  a  man  with  a  legitimate  busi- 
ness, who  will  let  whisky  alone,  can  travel  through  this  Territory  as 
safely  as  any  other.  The  visitor  can  not  always  feel  as  certain  of  this 
as  he  would  like  to.  The  night  "Brick"  Pomeroy  reached  Muscogee 
three  men  were  shot  dead.  u  Brick  "  walked  from  the  train  to  the  dining- 
car,  and  spent  the  night;  walked  thence  to  the  earliest  morning  train 
and  left  the  Territory. 

After  two  days  at  this  lively  town,  we  concluded  we  had  better  see 


198  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  Creeks  at  home,  and  started  afoot  for  the  Agency,  traveling  over  a 
beautiful,  rich  prairie,  gently  rolling,  rising  from  the  river  into  long 
ridges,  which  occasionally  terminated  in  sharp  bluffs,  crowned  with 
pretty  groves.  The  prospect  was  delightful  by  nature,  and  not  a  little 
enlivened  by  the  numerous  herds  of  cattle  cropping  the  rich  herbage. 
The  tasty  groves,  the  high  prairie,  and  the  slow-moving  herds,  with 
an  occasional  group  of  horses,  produced  the  exact  likeness  of  an  old  and 
wealthy  estate,  with  pretty  parks  and  stock  grazing  about  the  lawns 
and  meadows.  Eight  or  ten  miles  west  of  Muscogee,  we  entered  a 
region  of  rude  log-cabins  and  gaunt  farm  stock,  where  black  faces 
peered  at  us  through  the  cracks  of  "worm  fences,"  and  occasional 
''free  nigger"  patches  showed  something  like  civilization.  A  colored 
girl  replied,  in  answer  to  our  queries,  "  Agency  over  thar,"  and  a  mile 
further  brought  us  to  a  beautiful  grove,  in  which  was  an  irregular 
square  of  log-cabins,  including  some  three  or  four  acres.  "We  saw 
no  signs  of  Government  buildings,  and  but  one  neat,  commodious 
house.  There  we  were  directed  to  a  double  log  building,  correspond- 
ing to  those  of  the  poorest  farmers  in  Indiana,  some  distance  from  the 
square  in  a  field,  and  that  we  found  to  be  the  Agency. 

The  place  is  overrun  by  freedmen.  A  continuous  line  of  settle- 
ments, with  "  patches  "  rather  than  farms,  extends  for  ten  miles  along 
the  Arkansas,  with  a  population  of  perhaps  a  thousand  freedmen  and 
a  hundred  Creeks.  Only  the  poorest  and  lowest  of  the  Indians  live 
among  the  blacks,  but  there  has  been  more  amalgamation  in  this 
than  in  any  other  tribe.  The  pure  Creeks  differ  noticeably  from  the 
Cherokees.  They  are  shorter,  broader,  and  rather  darker;  without 
the  high  cheek  bones  and  solemn  gravity  of  the  others,  and  with  a 
more  cheerful  and  kindly  expression.  The  white  traders  say  they  are 
more  industrious  than  the  Cherokees,  but  less  intelligent.  Their 
history  is  an  aboriginal  romance.  They  long  ago  occupied  a  district 
far  west  of  the  Mississippi,  whence  they  slowly  moved  eastward  and 
northward — a  nation  of  predatory  warriors.  Just  before  them  were 
the  Alabamas.  The  two  fought  at  every  encounter,  and  the  latter 
invariably  retreated.  Thus  they  fought  through  Arkansas  and  Mis- 
souri, then  across  the  Mississippi  and  Ohio,  then  through  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee,  and  into  Alabama.  Here  tradition  says  the  old  chief 
and  prophet  of  the  foremost  tribe,  supposing  the  Creeks  would  not 
follow  them,  struck  his  standard  into  the  earth  and  shouted:  "Ala- 
bah-ma — Ala-bah-ma!" — "Here  we  rest!  Here  we  rest!" 

But  the  Creeks  were  soon  upon  them,  and  finally  conquered  and 
absorbed  them,  as  they  did  all  they  conquered,  if  the  vanquished  had 


OKLAHOMA.  199 

fought  well.  In  this  manner  they  have  also  adopted  the  remnants  of 
the  Uchees,  Na tehees,  and  Hitchitees;  and  these,  with  the  Alabamas, 
still  have  separate  towns  and  distinct  languages  in  the  Creek  Nation. 
They  continued  eastward,  and  after  a  long  and  bloody  war  with  the 
Cherokees,  in  which  neither  nation  could  conquer  the  other,  made  a 
peace  which  has  never  been  broken,  and  turned  southward.  In  the 
war  of  1812.  a  portion  of  the  tribe  who  joined  the  British  were 
driven  into  exile,  taking  the  name  of  Seminoles  (Say-me-no-lays), 
meaning  "outcasts."  These,  joined  with  fugitive  slaves  from  Geor- 
gia and  the  Carolinas,  became  a  separate  nation,  and  long  maintained 
a  desperate  war  with  the  whites  amid  the  swamps  and  glades  of 
Florida.  Both  nations,  after  years  of  trouble  and  broken  treaties, 
with  many  transactions  which  reflect  no  credit  upon  the  United  States 
officials,  were  finally  sent  to  this  country  during  the  administrations 
of  John  Quincy  Adams,  Andrew  Jackson,  and  Martin  Van  Buren. 

The  government  of  the  Creek  Nation  is  republican  in  form ;  the  en- 
tire "constitution"  and  laws  are  printed  in  a  small  pamphlet  of  less 
than  twenty  pages.  The  law-making  power  is  vested  in  a  House  of 
Kings  and  a  House  of  Warriors;  the  members  of  each  are  elected 
for  four  years,  by  general  vote  of  all  the  male  Creeks  over  eighteen 
years  of  age.  Each  of  the  forty  towns  sends  one  member  to  the 
House  of  Kings;  to  the  House  of  Warriors  one,  and  an  additional 
member  for  each  two  hundred  citizens.  The  Kings  elect  their  own 
President,  the  Warriors  their  own  Speaker-in-Council ;  each  house 
elects  its  own  interpreter,  and  all  speeches  made  in  English  are  forth- 
with rendered  aloud  into  Creek,  and  vice  versa.  The  records  are  kept 
in  English. 

The  Executive  of  the  Nation  is  styled  the  Principal  Chief,  his  Vice 
the  Second  Chief;  they  also  are  elected  for  four  years  each,  and  thus 
the  entire  Government  is  liable  to  a  complete  change  at  each  election. 
The  Judiciary  begins  with  the  High  Court,  which  consists  of  five 
persons,  chosen  by  the  Council  for  four  years.  They  have  original 
jurisdiction  in  all  cases  involving  over  one  hundred  dollars,  and  ap- 
pellate jurisdiction  from  lower  courts  in  criminal  matters.  The  Na- 
tion is  divided  into  six  districts,  in  each  of  which  a  judge  is  elected 
by  the  qualified  voters;  he  has  jurisdiction  of  all  cases  involving  sums 
under  one  hundred  dollars,  and  local'  criminal  jurisdiction.  Of 
course,  with  such  a  brief  and  simple  criminal  code,  there  is  much  left 
to  the  discretion  of  the  judge,  and,  as  far  as  a  white  man  can  see,  he 
seems  to  have  almost  absolute  power.  The  death  penalty  is  often  in- 
flicted. Each  district  elects  a  "light  horse  company,"  consisting  of 


200  WESTERN  WILDS. 

one  lieutenant  and  four  privates;  these  act  as  sheriff  and  deputies  under 
orders  of  the  District  Courts,  and  are  subject  to  a  general  call  from  the 
Principal  Chief  to  execute  the  mandates  of  the  High  Court,  or  sup- 
press extensive  disorders.  In  hundreds  of  instances  these  light-horse 
companies  and  the  District  Judge  simply  make  the  law  as  they  go, 
calling  court  on  each  particular  case,  following  the  statute  if  there  is 
one,  and  if  not,  assigning  such  penalty  as  in  their  judgment  fits  the 
case.  The  laws  are  singularly  plain  and  unambiguous.  No  space  is 
wasted  in  definitions,  it  being  taken  for  granted,  apparently,  that 
every  body  knows  the  meaning  of  such  terms  as  "steal"  and 
"  murder." 

After  a  few  days  at  the  Agency,  where  we  were  handsomely  enter- 
tained, and  assisted  in  our  researches  by  Major  J.  G.  Vore  and  his  as- 
sistant, Mr.  A.  S.  Purinton,  who  were  in  charge,  we  determined  to 
visit  the  Tallahassee  Mission,  a  sort  of  high  school  for  the  Creeks. 
Starting  afoot,  Mr.  De  Bruler  and  I  soon  reached  the  Arkansas,  and, 
after  half  an  hour's  vigorous  shouting,  the  ferryman  came  over,  with 
two  negroes.  A  sudden  storm  drove  us  to  the  nearest  hut.  A  bright 
mulatto  soon  appeared,  who  informed  us  that  he  was  a  slave  to  the 
Creeks  "  af oh  de  wah ;  run  away  and  went  off  den,  which  I  larnt 
Ingliss,  sah."  So,  with  him  for  interpreter,  we  succeeded  in  an  hour 
in  extracting  half  a  dozen  remarks  from  Charon  the  Silent,  as  we 
named  the  determinedly  reticent  Creek.  The  storm  passed,  and  we 
were  set  across  the  river,  for  which  Charon  demanded  " pahly-hok- 
kolilen  hoonunvy,  pahly  osten " — rendered  by  our  linguist  to  mean 
"twenty  cents  a  man — forty  cents  all."  This  we  disbursed,  and  footed 
it  across  the  bottom  over  a  road  rendered  very  toilsome  by  the  rain. 
At  dark,  splashed  and  weary,  we  reached  the  Mission,  which  is  beau- 
tifully situated  in  an  open  grove,  appearing  to  us  a  Very  haven  of 
rest — fitting  emblem  of  the  faith  and  hope  which  planted  it  in  this 
wilderness. 

There  we  spent  a  most  delightful  Sabbath,  entertained  by  the  Su- 
perintendent, Rev.  W.  S.  Robertson,  and  family.  This  mission  has 
been  thirty  years  in  existence,  and  has  educated  all  the  leading  men 
of  the  Creek  Nation.  The  teachers  are  selected  and  paid  by  the -Pres- 
byterian Board  of  Home  Missions ;  the  material  interests  are  looked 
after  by  the  Nation,  which  sends  a  boy  and  girl  from  each  of  the 
forty  towns,  a  new  one  being  selected  for  every  departure.  Supper 
was  called  soon  after  our  arrival;  we  took  "visitors'  chairs,"  and 
watched  with  much  interest  the  orderly  incoming  of  some  seventy 
young  Creeks,  of  every  age  from  eight  to  twenty-two.  Nearly  all 


OKLAHOMA. 


201 


were  pure  bloods,  and  the  whole  scene  was  a  revelation  to  me.  I  had 
seen  the  savage-painted  Indian,  and  the  miserable  vagabond  on  the 
white  frontier;  but  the  civilized,  scholarly  Indian  boy  and  girl  pre- 
sented a  new  sight.  Supper  over,  a  chapter  was  read,  and  the  school 
united  in  prayers  and  a  devotional  hymn.  Then  we  were  invited  to 
hear  classes,  who  volunteered  an  evening  recitation  for  our  benefit. 

Their  natural  talent  is  surprising,  particularly  in  drawing  and  fig- 
ures. Every  Creek  boy  seems  to  know  the  law  of  outline  by  instinct. 
In  figures  they  are  very 
quick ;  in  reading  not  so 
apt.  Creek  and  English 
being  the  only  languages 
used  at  the  Mission,  every 
Uchee,  Natchee,  or  Ala- 
bama pupil  has  to  learn 
a  new  language  before 
his  education  proper  be- 
gins. 

Like  the  common 
school  system  of  our  own 
people,  this  school  tends 
to  break  down  tribal  prej- 
udice, and  make  the  peo- 
ple homogeneous.  Two 
Uchee  boys,  of  the  read- 
ing class,  conversed  awhile 
in  that  language  at  my 
request.  It  is  entirely 
devoid  of  labials  ;  for  five  "SLBH-MM-AN-DAH-MOUCH-WAH-GKR." 

minutes  they  touched  the  lips  together  but  once.  It  also  rarely  re- 
quires the  dentals ;  and  thus  to  a  Uchee  it  is  almost  impossible  to  dis- 
tinguish between  b  and  p,  d  and  t,  or  a  and  e.  This  inability  pro- 
duces most  ludicrous  results  in  spelling.  Pronouncing  the  words  to 
be  spelled  orally,  the  teacher  can  not  possibly  determine  in  the  quick 
sound  whether  the  spelling  is  correct  or  not — that  is,  with  Uchee 
beginners.  But,  when  they  come  to  write  it  on  the  slate,  bat  becomes 
•p-e-t,  hat  h-e-d,  bad  b-e-t,  etc.  The  Creeks  are  lively  and  affection- 
ate, but  their  original  language  does  not  contain  a  single  term  of  en- 
dearment. Some  have  been  adopted  from  the  English,  others  formed 
by  combining  primitive  words  in  their  own  tongue.  The  word  for 
sweetheart  has  eight  syllables — a  nice  jawbreaker  to  murmur  in  a 


202  WESTERN   WILDS. 

maiden's  ear  by  moonlight.  Love  (between  the  sexes)  is  slem-lem-an- 
dah-moucli-wah-ger.  A  girl  must  be  delighted  to  hear  a  fellow  say 
he  has  a  good  deal  of  that  for  her. 

Mr.  Robertson,  with  the  aid  of  an  interpreter,  "has  adapted  our 
alphabet  to  the  language,  and  published  a  series  of  books  with  trans- 
lations of  many  of  our  hymns.  These  we  heard  at  the  Mission  Sab- 
bath School,  which  was  also  a  delightful  surprise  in  its  way.  I  felt 
all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion  when  the  seventy  sweet  voices,  led 
by  Miss  Robertson  with  an  organ,  took  up  the  strain  of  "  Shall  we 
gather  at  the  River?"  in  the  Creek.  Here  is  the  first  verse : 

BEAUTIFUL   RIVER. 

Uerakkon  teheceyvr  haks 
Cesvs  em  estolke  fullan 
Cesvs  liket  a  fihnet  os 
Hoyayvket  fihnet  os. 
CHOETJS — Momos  rnon  teheceyvres 

Uerakko  herusen  escherusen 
Mekusapvlken  etohkv  liket 
Fulleye  inunkv  tares. 

C  is  pronounced  as  ch  in  child,  e  as  i  in  pin,  v  as  short  u;  y  between 
two  vowels  unites  with  the  preceding  one  to  form  a  diphthong,  and 
with  the  latter  is  pronounced  as  y;  a  is  pronounced  ah  as  in  father, 
and  all  other  letters  as  in  English. 

Thence  we  continued  our  survey  of  the  Creek  country  by  leisurely 
journeys  among  the  farmers.  The  soil  is  generally  fertile,  while 
almost  every  dwelling  is  the  center  of  a  beautiful  grove  of  fruit  trees, 
at  that  season  green  with  springing  leaves,  or  white  and  red  with 
blossoms,  giving  off  the  sweet  scents  of  advancing  spring.  The 
people  as  a  rule  are  simple,  civil  and  hospitable;  the  Nation  contains 
several  churches  aggregating  a  thousand  members.  But  the  natural 
tendency,  as  with  other  Indians,  is  towards  a  sort  of  fatalism. 
Among  all  the  races  in  the  Territory  conjurers  are  found,  and  the 
testimony  is  universal  that  they  never  fail  to  cure  snake-bites.  There 
is  not  a  dissenting  statement  from  white,  black  or  red !  If  you  ask 
the  more  intelligent  how  they  explain  it,  the  answer  generally  is.- 
"I  don't  explain  it;  I  don't  believe  in  conjuration;  I  only  know  the 
cure  is  certain."  The  conjurer  uses  no  medicine  but  a  small  leaf  of 
tobacco  or  other  plant,  which  he  holds  upon  his  tongue  while  pro- 
nouncing  the  charm.  He  applies  it  then  to  the  bite,  pressing  it 
smartly  with  the  ball  of  his  thumb,  and  in  less  than  twenty-four 
hours  the  patient  is  entirely  well. 

At  noon  of  a  bright  April  day  we  return  to  the  railroad  at  Mus- 


OKLAHOMA,  203 

cogee,  to  find  matters  worse  than  ever.  As  we  sit  down  to  dinner  in 
the  boarding-car,  a  half-blood  Creek,  crazy  with  smuggled  whisky,  is 
galloping  up  and  down  the  row,  brandishing  a  huge  revolver,  and 
threatening  death  to  all  opponents.  At  one  moment  he  rides  his 
horse  into  a  shop,  emerges  the  next,  and  gallops  upon  a  group  of 
wenches,  who  scatter*  with  a  chorus  of  screams.  A  file  of  soldiers 
from  a  detachment  on  the  road  appear  on  the  scene,  arrest  and  disarm 
him,  and  the  town  returns  to  its  normal  condition  of  listlessness  and 
idle  chatter.  Severe  penalties  are  prescribed  against  selling  whisky 
in  the  Territory,  and  that  which  is  smuggled  in,  is  the  vilest  compound 
known  to  the  trade,  familiarly  called  "tarantula  juice,"  from  the 
deadliest  insect  in  the  country.  And  this  reminds  me  of  the  appro- 
priate names  for  intoxicating  liquors,  which  have  been  evolved  by  a 
riotous  Western  fancy.  Nobody  says:  "Will  you  take  a  drink?" 
At  Chicago  they  say  :  "  Name  your  family  disturbance."  At  Omaha : 
"  Nominate  your  poison."  At  Cheyenne :  "  Will  you  drive  a  nail  in 
your  coffin?"  At  Salt  Lake:  "Well,  shall  we  irrigate?"  At  Vir- 
ginia City:  "Shall  we  lay  the  dust?"  But  in  Arizona  and  the  more 
southern  Territories  the  universal  formula  is  :  "  Let's  nip  some  tarant- 
ula juice."  Such  are  the  pleasing  metaphors  wherewith  the  frontiers- 
man invites  to  refreshment. 

The  railroad  was  pushing  southward  as  fast  as  a  small  army  could 
lay  track,  to  meet  the  Texas  Central,  which  was  in  like  manner  push- 
ing northward  toward  Red  River.  From  Muscogee  we  traversed  the 
last  section  then  built,  to  the  main  Canadian  River.  Between  the  two 
Canadians  was  the  passenger  terminus,  near  the  Old  Methodist  Mis- 
sion ;  and  here  we  pause  a  few  hours.  Dusty  and  travel- worn  pilgrims 
are  coming  in  from  all  points  in  Western  Texas,  and  spruce,  clean 
looking  people  from  civilization,  starting  out  on  long  and  toilsome 
journeys  through  the  sandy  plains  between  here  and  the  Rio  Grande. 
Thence  to  Main  Canadian  we  traverse  a  dense  forest;  all  the  point 
between  the  two  rivers  is  heavily  timbered,  and  choked  with  under- 
brush. The  main  stream  is  now  wide  and  rapid,  apparently  thick 
with  red  mud  and  sand ;  but  after  standing  a  few  minutes,  it  is  sweet 
enough  to  the  taste,  and  close  examination  shows  the  stream  to  be  tol- 
erably clear,  the  red  showing  through  the  water  from  the  bottom. 

We  observed,  with  some  nervousness,  that  Brad  Collins,  a  "  White 
Cherokee  "  desperado,  with  a  dozen  of  his  retainers  had  come  down 
on  our  train.  Soon  the  smuggled  whisky  they  brought  begun  to  take 
effect,  and  half  a  dozen  young  half-breeds  were  galloping  about  town, 
firing  pistols  in  the  air,  and  yelling  like  demons.  My  companion 


204  WESTERN   WILDS. 

took  a  brief  look,  and  suggested :  "  This  is  a  devilish  queer  place, 
let's  get  out  of  it."  I  was  glad  I  had  waited  for  him  to  speak  first, 
but  promptly  acquiesced ;  and  Ave  crossed  the  Canadian  into  the 
Choctaw  Nation,  and  spent  the  day  with  Tandy  Walker,  Esq.  This 
gentleman,  nephew  of  Ex-Governor  Walker  of  the  Choctaws,  is  nearly 
white,  and  strongly  in  favor  of  throwing  open  the  Territory  to  white 
settlement.  Once  a  leading  man,  he  is  now  politically  ostracized  for 
his  opinions.  And  here  I  may  as  well  present  a  view  of  the  party 
divisions  which  have  caused  so  much  trouble  and  some  bloodshed  in 
this  Territory.  It  is  a  "  Territory "  only  in  a  geographical  sense, 
not  being  governed  under  an  organic  act  like  .Utah  or  Montana.  It 
was  set  apart  by 'Act  of  Congress  of  May  28,  1830,  and  each  Indian 
nation  has  its  own  government.  The  proposition,  before  Congress 
ever  since  the  war,  is  to  organize  it  into  the  "  Territory  of  Okla- 
homa," (a  Cherokee  compound  signifying  the  "Red  men's  State") 
and  throw  it  open  to  white  settlers.  Hence  the  three  parties  among 
the  Indians : 

First — the  Territorial  party  t  in  favor  of  Oklahoma  and  white  im- 
migration, after  setting  apart,  in  fee  simple,  a  considerable  farm  to 
each  Indian. 

Second — the  Ockmulkee  Constitution  party:  in  favor  of  sectioniz- 
ing  the  land,  giving  each  Indian  his  farm  and  the  two  railroads  their 
grant,  keeping  all  the  rest  in  common  as  it  is  now,  and  uniting  all 
the  tribes  under  one  government  of  their  own  (the  Ockmulkee  Con- 
stitution), with  American  citizenship  and  local  courts;  but  no  terri- 
torial arrangement  and  no  white  settlement. 

Third — the  party  in  favor  of  the  present  condition. 

On  further  examination  I  found  that  the  first  party  was  very  small 
among  all  the  nations,  and  that  the  members  of  it  were  regarded  as 
traitors  to  their  race;  that  the  third  party  had  as  yet  a  large  majority 
of  the  whole  people,  but  that  the  Ockmulkee  Constitution  promised 
most  for  the  Indians,  and  had  the  support  of  their  most  able  men. 

The  Choctaws  number  16,000,  the  Chickasaws  6,000;  the  two  con- 
stitute one  nation,  the  citizens  of  either  tribe  having  equal  rights  in 
all  respects.  .Their  country  lies  between  the  Main  Canadian  and  Ar- 
kansas, and  is  two  hundred  miles  from  east  to  west:  an  area  equal  to 
two  or  three  New  England  States,  the  eastern  third  very  fertile,  the 
center  good  for  timber  and  pasture,  the  western  part  running  into  the 
flinty  hills  and  barren  plains.  The  citizens  are  more  advanced  in 
civilization  than  the  Creeks;  they  enforce  their  laws  much  better, 
particularly  in  cases  where  whites  or  half-breeds  are  concerned. 


OKLAHOMA.  205 

With  their  sporadic  population  timber  increases  yearly,  game  is 
abundant  and  cheap,  common  pasturage  is  plenty,  and  cattle  are 
grown  at  a  cost  of  from  three  to  eight  dollars  per  head.  The  Choc- 
taws  jvere  immensely  wealthy  before  the  war.  Single  herders  num- 
bered their  cattle  by  thousands.  The  average  wealth  was  twice  as 
great  as  that  of  any  purely  agricultural  community  in  the  States,  and 
golden  ornaments  of  every  sort  were  profusely  displayed  on  horses, 
carriages,  and  the  Indians'  persons.  The  amount  of  fine  clothes  and 
jewelry  sold  by  traders  here  at  that  time  seems  incredible.  The  war 
swept  them  clean ;  literally  broke  up  and  ruined  them,  leaving  noth- 
ing but  the  land.  Before  the  war  Mr.  Walker  was  accounted  a  million- 
aire. He  began  again,  in  1865,  with  fifty  dollars  and  one  saddle-mule. 
He  was  ahead  of  his  neighbors  only  in  this :  his  fifty  dollars  were  in 
greenbacks,  theirs  were  in  Confederate  notes.  Those  who  "  went 
South "  were  even  worse  ruined  than  those  who  "  took  the  Federal 
side."  Some  died  of  grief  and  despair,  on  returning  home  in  1865. 
But  most  went  resolutely  to  work,  and  are  once  more  prospering. 
But  many  years  will  be  required  for  those  vast  herds  of  cattle  to 
be  renewed.  This  neighborhood  has  every  sign  of  a  prosperous 
community  of  civilized  farmers.  On  the  whole,  I  rather  like  the 
Choctaws. 

We  soon  returned  to  Muscogee,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  a  sultry 
day  set  out  to  walk  to  Fort  Gibson.  Three  miles  brought  us  upon 
the  old  cattle  trail  from  Texas  to  Kansas  City,  where  we  were  soon 
overtaken  by  a  grizzled  and  weather-beaten  old  Texan,  who  politely 
asked  us  to  take  a  seat  in  his  wagon.  Eyeing  our  valises  suspiciously, 
he  asked : 

"  Got  any  Avhisky  in  them  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  with  expressed  regrets. 

"  Ef  ye  had,  ye'd  walk,  you  bet;  wouldn't  have  you  get  in  here 
with  one  pint  of  whisky  for  five  hundred  dollars !  " 

This  radical  temperance  platform  in  this  latitude  excited  our  aston- 
ishment, and  we  called  for  an  explanation.  He  gave  it:  "A  burnt 
child  dreads  the  fire.  One  pint,  yes,  one  dram  o'  whisky  'd  cost  me 
this  hull  load.  These  deputy  marshals — d — n  the  thievin'  rascals,  I 
say — they  '11  search  y'r  wagon  any  minit ;  and  if  they  find  one  drop, 
away  goes  the  hull  load  to  Fort  Smith,  and  d — n  the  haight  of  it  d'y 
ever  see  again.  One  trip  a  nice  lookin'  chap  enough  asked  me  to 
ride.  He  got  in,  and  pretty  soon  pulled  a  flask.  (  Drink/  says  he. 
'  After  you,'  says  I.  Well,  in  less  'n  ten  minutes  comes  the  marshals 
and  grabbed  us.  If  they  find  a  drop  even  on  a  man  as  is  ridin'  with 


206  WESTERN  WILDS. 

you,  they  take  every  thing,  and  nary  dollar  do  you  ever  git.  Why, 
that  feller  was  in  with  'em,  of  course.  They  seize  every  thing  they 
can  git  a  pretense  for,  and  then  divide.  There  won't  any  body  but  a 
scamp  or  a  rough  take  such  an  office  as  deputy  marshal  in  this 
country.  They  're  all  on  the  make,  and  in  with  these  roughs. 
That's  what  I  say." 

Three  miles  with  our  slightly  rebellious  Texan  friend  brought  us  to 
the  Arkansas  River,  and  to  a  steam  ferry-boat.  At  the  mouth  of 
Grand  River,  is  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Arkansas.  Steamers 
run  up  the  Grand  River,  which  has  backwater  from  the  Arkansas, 
three  miles  or  more,  and  land  at  Fort  Gibson.  By  a  series  of  dams 
and  locks,  like  those  on  Green  River,  Kentucky,  I  am  convinced  the 
Arkansas  could  have  slack-water  navigation  a  hundred  miles  or  more 
above  this.  The  waters  of  Grand  River  and  those  of  the  Arkansas 
show  like  two  broad  bands,  one  misty  blue  and  the  other  dirty  red 
and  yellow,  in  the  main  channel  as  far  as  we  can  see  below  their  junc- 
tion. The  two  streams,  the  clear  and  the  muddy,  run  side  by  side 
for  nearly  twenty  miles,  when  a  series  of  riffles  and  sharp  turns 
mingles  them  freely  in  a  fluid  of  pale  orange  tint. 

At  Fort  Gibson  we  found  quarters  at  the  usual  double-log-house 
hotel,  kept  by  a  Pennsylvania  Dutchman,  with  a  "White  Cherokee" 
wife  ;  and  there  we  met  Judge  Yann,  Hon.  A.  Rattling  Gourd,  and 
other  prominent  Cherokees.  This  is  a  rather  handsome  town  for  the 
border,  with  several  neat  brick  and  frame  houses.  After  a  few  days' 
study  of  local  politics,  we  concluded  more  was  to  be  learned  at 
the  capital,  and  started  afoot  for  Tahlequah.  The  distance  is  twenty- 
two  miles,  which  we  must  divide  in  two  journeys.  "Better  stop  at 
Widow  Skrimshee's  over  night;  got  a  good  house  and  a  white  son-in- 
law;  'taint  but  fifteen  miles  there,"  said  our  new  friends.  So,  valise 
on  shoulder,  we  started  for  the  widow's,  through  a  beautiful  and  well- 
improved  country  for  the  first  six  miles.  The  log-houses  here  are 
superior  in  style  to  those  in  most  new  countries,  being  high,  neatly 
squared  at  the  corners,  and  well  shingled.  There  are  few  frames. 
The  improvements  are  much  finer  than  among  the  Creeks,  and  about 
equal  to  those  of  the  Choctaws.  From  rolling  prairie  we  descended 
into  a  broad  valley  with  heavy  timber.  From  the  open  and  windy 
plain  to  this  grove  was  like  going  from  pleasant  April  to  sultry  July. 
Our  valises  seemed  to  weigh  a  hundred  each ;  our  clothing  dripped 
with  sweat,  and  we  were  soon  exhausted  by  fatigue.  We  turned  aside 
to  the  residence  of  a  "White  Cherokee" — the  usual  double-log-house 
with  porch  between — where  we  lay  prostrate  in  the  passage,  smoked 


OKLAHOMA.  207 

a  pipe  of  his  "home  raisin',"  and  "interviewed"  him  as  to  the  situa- 
tion. He  had  been  a  Union  Cherokee ;  took  a  hundred  men  out  of 
here  by  night  in  the  fall  of '61 ;  went  North  and  became  a  captain; 
came  back  after  the  war,  to  find  his  house  and  fences  burned,  and  all 
his  stock  run  off—  some  to  Kansas,  some  to  Texas.  "  Was  rich  afo' 
the  war ;  derned  poor  now,  but  gittin'  started  again.  Hated  the  loss 
of  my  sheep  wuss'n  any  thing  else — fine  bloods — couldn't  get  others 
like  'em." 

At  dark,  fagged  and  heated,  we  reached  the  widow's.  She  was  a 
bright,  half-blood  Cherokee,  and  entertained  us  till  late  bed-time  with 
accounts  of  "  the  old  nation  in  Geaugey."  and  their  fights  and  troubles 
till  they  were  sent  here.  Thence  we  traveled  on  to  Tahlequah,  the 
Cherokee  capital,  a  pretty  town  of  perhaps  eight  hundred  people. 
Our  first  acquaintance  was  with  William  Boudinot,  brother  of  the  Elias 
Boudinot  who  has  been  so  active  at  Washington  pushing  the  Okla- 
homa Bill.  William  is  editor  of  the  Cherokee  Advocate,  official  organ 
of  the  Nation,  published  in  English  and  Cherokee,  and  a  handsome, 
well-conducted  sheet.  The  Choctaws  also  have  a  small  paper  called 
the  Vindicator,  these  being  the  only  papers  published  in  the  Territory. 
Tahlequah  was  for  us  rich  in  historic  interest,  and  we  spent  three 
days  most  delightfully  among  the  curious  old  records  of  the  Nation, 
here  preserved. 

The  Cherokees  represent  the  best  history  and  the  highest  hope  of 
the  Indian  race.  If  they  are  a  failure,  the  race  can  not  be  civil- 
ized— the  aborigine  is  doomed.  They  have  been  an  organized  nation 
with  constitution  and  written  laws  for  eighty  years ;  far  back  of  that 
they  were  superior  to  all  neighboring  tribes.  The  oldest  printed  law 
I  can  find  bears  date  of  Broom's  Town  (in  Georgia),  llth  Sept.  1808, 
and  is  as  follows : 

KESOIATED,  by  the  Chiefs  and  Warriors  in  a  National  Council  Assembled:  .  .  .  When 
any  person1  or  persons  which  may  or  shall  be  charged  with  stealing  a  horse,  and  upon 
conviction  by  one  or  two  witnesses,  he,  she,  or  they,  shall  be  punished  with  one  hundred 
stripes  on  the  bare  back,  and  the  punishment  to  be  in  proportion  for  stealing  property  of 
less  value ;  and  should  the  accused  person  or  persons  raise  up  with  arms  in  his  or  their 
hands,  as  guns,  axes,  spears,  and  knives,  in  opposition  to  the  regulating  company,  or 
should  they  kill  him  or  them,  the  blood  of  him  or  them  shall  not  be  required  of  any  of 
the  persons  belonging  to  the  regulators  from  the  clan  the  person  so  killed  belonged  to. 

Accepted:  BLACK  Fox,  Principal  Chief. 

PATHKILLER,  Second  Chief. 
TOOCHALAR. 
CHAS.  HICKS,  Secretary  to  Council. 

Other  acts  bear  the  signatures  of  Ehnautaunaueh,  Secretary;  and 
"  Turtle-at-home,  Speaker  of  Council."  The  constitution  of  May  6, 


208  WESTERN  WILDS. 

1817,  sets  forth  that  fifty-four  towns  have  agreed  on  "a  form  for 
future  government."  The  following  act,  passed  in  1819,  hints  at  a 
Credit  Mobilier  Scheme : 

Whereas,  The  Big  Rattling  Gourd,  William  Grimit,  Betsey  Broom,  The  Dark,  Daniel 
Griffin,  and  Mrs.  Lesley  have  made  certain  promises,  etc.: 

Be  it  nou;  therefore,  known,  ....  The  above  persons  are  the  only  legal  proprietors 
and  a  privileged  company  to  establish  a  turnpike,  leading  from  Widow  Fools',  at  the  forks 
of  Hightower  and  Oostinallah,  to  the  first  creek  east  of  John  Field's,  known  by  the  name 
Where-Vann-was-shot,  etc. 

Some  of  the  dark  statesmen  retained  their  aboriginal  names,  some 
simply  translated  them  into  plain  English,  and  others  adopted  new 
names  from  missionaries  or  noted  Americans.  Hence  we  find  among 
the  officials:  Young  Wolf  (perhaps  a  rising  warrior),  Okanstotah 
Logan,  Bark  Flute  (probably  a  musical  orator),  Oolayoa,  and  Soft 
Shell  Turtle !  Judge  Rattling  Gourd  is  a  prominent  citizen  of  the  na- 
tion at  present.  John  Jolly  and  Spring  Frog — perhaps  the  Sunset  Cox 
and  Ben  Butler  of  their  politics — were  active  in  effecting  the  union. 

The  Eastern  and  Western  Cherokees  reunited  in  their  present 
country  in  1839,  and  the  "Act  of  Union"  is  signed  by  James  Brown, 
Te-ke-chu-las-kee,  George  Guess  (Se-quo-yah),  Jesse  Bushyhead,  Lewis 
Ross,  Tobacco  Will,  Thomas  Candy,  Young  Wolf,  Ah-sto-la-ta,  and 
some  others.  At  the  conclusion  is  this  indorsement: 

"  The  foregoing  instrument  was  read,  considered,  and  approved  by 
us,  this  23d  day  of  August,  1839:  Major  Pullum,  Young  Elders,  Deer 
Track,  Young  Puppy  (!),  Turtle  Fields,  July,  The  Eagle,  The  Crying 
Buffalo,  and  a  great  number  of  respectable  old  settlers  and  late  emi- 
grants too  numerous  to  be  recorded." 

Some  two  hundred  years  ago  the  Cherokees,  then  known  as  an 
offshoot  from  the  Waupanuckee  (whom  the  French  called  Lenni 
Lenape,  and  the  Americans  have  since  named  Dela wares),  were 
pushing  slowly  down  from  western  North  Carolina  towards  the  coast. 
On  the  Yemassee — celebrated  by  the  genius  of  Gilmore  Simms — they 
came  in  contact  with  the  whites ;  and  twenty  years  before  the  Revolu- 
tion occurred  a  bloody  contest,  in  which  they  were  driven  westward. 
In  the  Continental  forces  were  two  lieutenants,  afterwards  known  to 
fame  as  General  Francis  Marion  and  Major  Peter  Horry.  The  major 
in  his  account  tells  with  surprise  of  the  superior  dwellings  and  ad- 
vancement of  the  Cherokees.  Since  that  time  they  have  made  twenty 
successive  treaties  with  the  United  States;  and  if  any  faith  what- 
ever is  to  be  kept  with  Indians,  their  title  to  the  region  they  now 
occupy  is  as  good  as  that  of  any  white  man  to  his  land.  They  aban- 


OKLAHOMA.  209 

doned  all  claims  to  their  lands  in  Georgia,  Alabama,  Tennessee,  and 
North  Carolina,  on  condition  of  receiving  a  fee  simple  to  this  land, 
witnessed  by  a  patent  from  the  President.  This  title  has  been  twice 
pronounced  valid  by  the  Supreme  Court,  and  recognized  in  eight 
solemn  treaties.  Could  title  to  land  be  more  perfect? 

In  1860,  they  were,  as  a  community,  the  wealthiest  people  in  the 
West.  Single  herders  owned  stock  to  the  value  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars.  In  this  mild  climate  and  upon  these  rich  prairies  cattle 
multiplied  rapidly.  There  was  soon  no  land  "running  to  waste,"  for 
all  was  utilized  as  pasture.  Many  white  men  sought  citizenship  or 
married  Cherokee  girls,  and  were  adopted,  and  the  advance  of  the 
Nation  was  healthful,  natural  and  rapid. 

In  1865  their  country  was  almost  a  waste;  the  people  in  extreme 
poverty.  But  they  came  back  from  the  war  and  sadly  went  to  work 
again.  Now  it  is  proposed,  because  part  of  them  joined  the  Confed- 
erates, that  all  shall  lose  their  present  title  and  take  their  chances 
under  a  new  allotment. 

The  Indian  Territory  contains  about  70,000  square  miles — one- 
third  very  fertile,  a  third  or  more  fit  only  for  pasture-lands,  and  the 
remainder,  the  westward  portion,  comparatively  a  desert.  The  four 
little  governments — Cherokee,  Creek,  Choctaw,  and  Seminole — are 
republican  in  form ;  over  all  of  them  extends  a  sort  of  Federal 
protectorate.  At  least  twenty  little  remnants  of  tribes  have  been 
adopted  into  these  nations,  such  as  the  Quawpaws,  Senecas,  Wyan- 
dottes,  and  Delawares.  Their  total  is  nearly  as  follows : 

CHEKOKEE  NATION. 

Full  bloods      .......  8,000 

Mixed 4,000 

Freed  men         .......  1,500 

Whites  married  in  or  adopted           ....  500 

Delawares        .......  900 

Shawnees         .......  700 

Wyandottes     .......  400 

Quawpaws       .......  200 

Senecas  100 


Total  Cherokee  Nation    ....  16,300 

To  which  should  be  added  some  2,000  Cherokees  now  in  North 
Carolina,  who  are  desirous  of  settling  here,  and  for  whose  removal 
the  Nation  is  making  provisions,  bringing  the  whole  number  up  to 
about  18,000.  I  do  not  here  include  those  new  tribes  west  of  96°, 

not  yet  formally  incorporated. 
14 


210  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Full  bloods      .  .        (CREEK  NATION.)  .  .  9,000 

Whites  and  mixed  bloods      .....  1,000 

Freedmen         .......  4,000 

Seruinoles         .......  2,000 

Total  Creek  citizens         .  .  .  16,000 

Pure  Choctaws  .    (CHOCTAW  NATION.)  .  .  10,000 

Mixed  .......    4,000 

Whites 1,000 

Chickasaws       .......     5,000 

Freedmen         .......     2,000 

Total  Choctaw  citizens     ....  22,000 

Osages  west  of  96°      .  (MINOR  TRIBES.)         .  .    3,000 

Kaws,  west  of  96°       .  .  .  .  .  .       600 

Unassigned,  perhaps  .  .  .  .  .     3,400 

Total  minor  tribes  ....     7,000 

Grand  total  .....  63,000 

The  Choctaws  and  Cherokees  have  the  greatest  number  of  intelli- 
gent men,  but  the  Creeks  are  just  now  doing  the  most  for  the  rising 
generation.  They  have  three  Mission  High  Schools,  under  control 
respectively  of  the  Baptist,  Methodist,  and  Presbyterian  churches. 
In  1872  there  were  in  the  whole  Territory  a  hundred  and  sixty  com- 
mon schools — the  high  average  of  one  to  every  four  hundred  of  the 
population.  The  number  now  reaches  nearly  two  hundred. 

The  present  weakness  of  these  people  is  their  imperfect  land  tenure. 
The  land  is  held  in  common  by  the  whole  tribe,  but  whatever  area 
any  citizen  incloses  with  a  lawful  fence  is  his  while  he  occupies  it. 
He  may  be  said  to  own  the  improvements,  but  not  the  land.  Any 
thing  may  be  removed  at  the  owner's  will ;  lience  there  is  practically 
no  real  estate,  no  conservative  landed  interest — the  only  true  founda- 
tion for  a  progressive  society  and  a  stable  civil  structure.  The 
herder,  hunter  or  explorer,  from  Kansas  or  Texas,  rides  through  a 
beautiful  tract,  and,  when  he  asks  who  owns  it,  the  only  answer  is : 
"The  Injuns — it's  Injun  land;"  that  is,  in  his  estimation,  nobody's 
land,  if  he  can  by  force  or  fraud  get  a  foothold.  If  he  were  told 
that  it  was  the  property  of  John  Johnnycake  or  William  Beaverdam, 
or  any  other  individual,  with  a  patent  title  on  which  he  could  sue 
and  be  sued,  the  case  would  be  very  different  to  him.  A  strong 
party,  therefore,  is  rising  up,  agitating  for  this  reform,  which  is  the 
distinctive  feature  of  the  Ocmulkee  Constitution. 

There  are  a  score  of  reasons  why  a  little  more  time  should  be  given 
the  Indians,  and  why  we  should  not  now  throw  open  this  country  to 


OKLAHOMA. 


211 


general  settlement.  In  the  first  place,  we  have  solemnly  agreed  not 
to  do  it,  which  is  reason  enough  for  any  honorable  man.  Secondly, 
there  is  no  present  necessity  for  it.  There  are  countless  millions  of 
acres  lying  idle  in  every  State  and  Territory  north  of  it,  untouched 
by  the  cultivator,  and  even  unoccupied  by  the  herdsman.  It  is  too 
soon  by  half  a  century 
to  repeat  to  these  civ-  =2v=i 

ilized  Indians  the  old 
order:  "Go  WEST." 
There  is  room  in  Ne- 
braska for  half  a  million 
farmers.  There  is  a 
tract  in  Dakota  about 
the  size  of  Indiana,  yet 
unappropriated,  with  a 
climate  suitable  f o  r 
Northern  people,  and  a 

1  •  f  •  .1  "GO  WEST." 

most  prolific  soil. 

"When  these  are  filled,  and  our  population  really  begins  to  feel 
crowded,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  trouble  the  Indians.  But  with 
Kansas  on  one  side  and  Texas  on  the  other  offering  millions  of  acres 
of  good  land,  it  seems  as  if  thousands  are  half  crazy  to  get  into  the 
Indian  Territory  just  because  it  is  forbidden. 

Our  true  policy  is  to  secure  these  people  their  lands,  assist  them 
a  little  in  their  progress,  and  make  them  our  agents  to  deal  with  the 
wild  tribes.  Half  civilized  and  barbarous  races  can  best  be  reached 
through  the  medium  of  their  more  advanced  brethren.  The  nations 
here  are  already  moving  in  the  matter,  and  a  little  assistance  only  is 
needed  to  enable  them  to  reach  and  negotiate  with  all  the  wild  tribes 
of  Northern  Texas  and  New  Mexico.  I  am  hopeful  enough  to  believe 
that,  with  a  proper  policy,  all  the  tribes  in  the  same  latitude,  except 
possibly  the  Apaches,  might  eventually  be  made  citizens  of  this  Ter- 
ritory. We  have  sent  the  Indians,  as  a  rule,  our  worst  men  and  most 
destructive  practices,  and  have  systematically  broken  faith  whenever 
it  seemed  profitable  to  do  so.  Here  only  has  a  policy  something  near 
sensible  and  just  been  pursued,  and  the  results  are  not  discouraging. 
Let  it  be  improved  and  extended,  and  we  may  reasonably  hope  the 
Indians  of  all  the  southern  Territories  will  be  gathered  here;  that 
an  aboriginal  community  of  two  hundred  thousand  will  grow  into  a 
high  civilization ;  and  in  due  time  we  shall  have  a  real  native  Ameri- 
can State — a  progressive  and  prosperous  State  of  Oklahoma. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

JOURNEY    TO   THE    RIO    GRANDE. 

No  THOROUGHFARE  from  Oklahoma  westward.  The  country  was 
safe  enough  for  three  hundred  miles  from  the  eastern  border ;  but  be- 
tween that  and  the  settlements  in  New  Mexico  intervened  five  hun- 
dred miles  of  marauding  Kioways  and  murderous  Comanches.  Stage 
coaches  run  from  Fort  Smith  out  to  Fort  Sill ;  beyond  that  the  trav- 
eler must  take  his  chances  for  a  government  train,  which  might  go  in 
a  month  or  a  year.  For  two  men  like  us,  unskilled  in  wood-craft, 
such  a  trip  alone  was  courting  death.  Another  line  of  coaches  trav- 
erses Northern  Texas  to  Fort  Concho,  but  we  preferred  a  more  north- 
ern route  at  that  season,  and  turned  toward  the  Kansas  Pacific  Rail- 
road. 

Traveling  leisurely  northward  through  Kansas,  we  still  gained  rap- 
idly on  the  season.  Montgomery  County  presented  a  succession  of 
fertile  vales  and  rolling  hills,  the  latter  often  rising  into  picturesque 
mounds  crowned  with  clumps  of  timber,  and  over  all  the  rich  green 
of  advancing  spring.  In  1868,  Montgomery  contained  twenty  settlers 
and  one  post-office ;  in  1872,  it  cast  a  vote  of  3,000,  indicating  a  pop- 
ulation of  at  least  10,000.  The  stream  of  emigration  had  filled  all 
the  valleys,  then  rolled  on  westward,  and  after  covering  the  best  parts 
of  Wilson  and  Cowley  counties,  had  turned  north,  and  was  flowing 
up  the  Arkansas  Valley.  The  Kansians  thus  summed  up  the  changes 
since  we  visited  them  a  month  before:  "Fine  chance  o'  corn  planted, 
an'  doin'  well ;  splendid  prospect  for  fruit — peaches  sure  of  a  whalin' 
crop — but  wheat  don't  look  well.  In  fact  that  crop  ain't  a  certain 
thing  yet  in  Southern  Kansas.  Garden  spot  o'  the  world,  sir;  no 
doubt  o'  that;  but  we  haven't  quite  got  the  land  worked  down  to  the 
right  pitch  for  wheat." 

At  midnight  of  May  2d  we  left  the  State  Line  Station  for  the  long 
ride  to  Denver ;  and  at  daylight  of  the  3d  were  at  Junction  City,  last 
point  of  connection  with  any  eastern  line  of  rail.  Thence  the  Mis- 
souri, Kansas  and  Texas  Road  runs  south-east,  down  the  valley  of  the 
Neosho  to  Parsons,  in  Labette  County.  So  far  we  see  no  signs  of  a 
diiferent  country  from  that  on  the  eastern  border;  timber  is  plenty 

(21?) 


JOURNEY  TO    THE  RIO    GRANDE. 


213 


along  the  streams,  the  soil  is  rich,  and  the  road  is  through  a  continuous 
line  of  settlements.  We  are  in  the  valley  of  the  Kaw  or  Kansas, 
(aboriginal  for  "blue"  or  "smoky")  till  noon;  then  leave  it  for  the 
Smoky  Hill  Valley,  after  crossing  Republican,  Big  Blue  and  Solo- 
mon's Fork.  These  three  are  big  streams — on  the  map.  Combined 
they  would  make  a  river  about  the  size  of  the  Miami. 

We  find  the  valley  pretty  well  settled  for  fifty  miles  west  of  Junc- 
tion City ;  then  rise  rapidly  to  the  high  plains  where  nothing  is  seen 
but  an  occasional  stock  ranche.  We  breakfast  at  Ellsworth,  which 
only  five  years  before  was  the  rival  of  Cheyenne  in  all  that  pertains 
to  rush,  crush,  business  and 
deviltry.  It  was  then  the 
terminus  of  the  road — also 
the  terminus  of  at  least  a 
hundred  lives.  When  I  was 
there  in  October,  1867,  J. 
H.  Runkle,  Esq.,  Prosecut- 
ing Attorney,  informed  me 
that  for  ninety-three  days 
there  was  a  homicide  every 
day  in  the  town  or  vicinity. 
Those  were  the  palmy  days  of 
your  "  Wild  Bills  "  (I  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  orig- 
inal, and  found  him  quite  a 
gentleman),  and  "Long 
Steves,"  your  "Dad  Smith,"  "Rake  Jake"  and  "Tom  Smith  of  Bear 
River."  "  Shall  we  have  a  man  for  breakfast?"  was  the  ordinary  morning 
salutation ;  and  usually  it  was  found  that  somebody  had  answered  the  ques- 
tion affirmatively  during  the  night.  "A  short  life  and  a  merry  one," 
was  the  motto  of  these  roysterers.  The  life  was  short  enough ;  its 
merriment  will  be  a  matter  of  doubt.  Strange  to  say,  officials  who  had 
much  to  do  in  thwarting  or  arresting  these  men,  themselves  became 
careless  of  life,  or  moody  and  inclined  to  suicide.  "  Wild  Bill "  sleeps 
beneath  the  green  prairies  on  which  he  figured  in  so  many  tragedies — 
died  by  the  shot  of  an  assassin.  "Dad  Smith  "was  hanged  by  the  vig- 
ilantes. "Long  Steve"  met  a  like  fate  at  Laramie.  "Tom  Smith" 
was  brained  by  an  ax  in  the  hands  of  a  drunken  companion.  And 
saddest  of  all,  but  a  few  months  ago  (February,  1877)  came  a  dispatch 
that  J.  H.  Runkle,  U.  S.  Attorney,  committed  suicide  at  Columbia, 
South  Carolina.  "  Rake  Jake  "  made  his  exit  from  a  tragedy  more 


"  WILD  BILL  "— J.  B.  HICKOCK. 


214 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


dramatic  than  any  ever  shown  upon  the  stage.  "With  two  companions 
he  took  refuge  in  his  cabin  on  the  prairie,  and  maintained  a  desperate 
fight  against  the  vigilantes.  The  infuriated  Kansians  set  the  dry  grass 
on  fire;  the  cabin  was  soon  in  flames,  and  issuing  therefrom  with  a 
revolver  in  each  hand,  scattering  leaden  death  on  all  sides,  the 
three  died  as  became  their  lives,  brave  men  to  the  last.  What  a  pity 
such  nerve  should  be  lost.  It  was  the  material  for  heroes  sadly 
perverted. 

"  Pity  they  loved  adventurous  life's  variety  ; 
They  were  so  great  a  loss  to  good  society." 

Ellsworth  is  quiet  enough   now.      During  the  season  for  shipping 
cattle  it  is  a   place  of  some  importance ;  the  rest  of  the  year  a  quiet 

country  depot.  From 
this  on  our  route  is 
through  the  Big  Past- 
ure. It  extends  from 
latitude  52°  in  British 
America,  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  with  an  aver- 
age width  of  three  hun- 
dred miles,  sloping 
steadily  eastward  from 
the  foot  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Say  1,500 
by  300  miles,  and  we 
have  an  area  of  450,000 
square  miles,  set  apart 
forever  by  nature  as  our  national  grazing  ground.  Not  one  acre  in  twenty 
of  it  can  ever  be  cultivated ;  while  at  least  half  the  area  produces  the 
sweetest  and  most  nutritious  of  grasses.  Take  a  board,  four  times  as  long 
as  it  is  wide,  lay  it  north  and  south,  and  tilt  it  a  very  little  toward  the 
east,  then  score  it  from  east  to  west  with  a  number  of  furrows,  and  you  will 
have  a  tolerable  map  or  miniature  copy  of  what  is  called  the  "  plains." 
The  western  border,  the  high  plateau  near  the  mountains,  has  an  aver- 
age elevation  of  5,000  feet ;  thence  eastward  the  general  slope  is  ten  feet 
to  the  mile  ;  so,  by  the  time  we  reach  the  settled  portions  of  Kansas  and 
Nebraska,  we  are  but  1,000  feet  or  so  above  sea-level.  Going  west- 
ward you  are  going  up-hill  and  nearer  mountains  and  deserts ;  conse- 
quently into  a  dryer  and  colder  country,  and  finally  into  a  region  fit 
for  nothing  but  pasturage. 

We  hurry  on,  and  soon  after  noon  enter  the  buffalo  country.      We 


"  SCATTERING  LEADEN  DEATH  ON  ALL  SIDES." 


JOURNEY  TO    THE  RIO   GRANDE.  •    215 

see  few  live  ones,  for  it  is  too  early  for  their  great  move  northward, 
but  myriads  of  the  dead.  Whole  herds  died  here  during  the  heavy 
snow  in  the  winter  of  1871-'72.  Far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  or  as  a 
good  field-glass  can  sweep  the  horizon,  they  lie  at  intervals  of  eight  or 
ten  rods,  and  in  every  stage  of  decay.  Some  appear  just  as  they  fell, 
almost  entirely  preserved — mummified,  as  it  were,  by  the  dry  air. 
Others  have  shrunk  to  small  compass  with  the  hide  still  entire,  and 
others — by  far  the  larger  number — are  picked  and  licked  to  clean 
white  skeletons  by  the  wolves.  The  sight  is  sad  and  sickening. 
About  the  stations  the  skins  are  piled  in  great  heaps  to  dry  for 
market — not  so  bad  to  the  sight  as  the  other,  but  worse  to  the  smell. 
This  region  of  dead  buffaloes  extends  from  first  to  last,  some  eighty 
miles,  traversing  which  we  saw  many  thousand  of  their  carcasses. 

Soon  we  begin  to  rout  out  a  few  live  bisons  from  their  herding 
places  in  the  hollows.  The  cry  of  "  buffalo  !"  causes  a  general  rush  to 
the  windows;  next  come  antelope,  then  prairie  dogs,  and  for  hours 
our  palace  car  company  resembles  a  district  school  at  a  menagerie. 
Ere  long  we  find  the  buffalo  more  numerous,  but  always  at  a  distance, 
feeding  in  small  groups.  The  whole  appearance  of  the  country  has 
changed;  the  surface  is  dry  and  cracked,  and  the  grass  has  a  cured 
look.  Dark  overtakes  us,  still  fifty  miles  east  of  the  Colorado 
line. 

We  wake  at  Denver,  and  hasten  to  the  Broadwell  House,  where  we 
sit  down  to  a  good  breakfast  and  a  copy  of  Byers'  Rocky  Mountain 
News.  In  its  columns  we  learn  that  the  Democrats  have  nominated 
Horace  Greeley  for  President !  Thirteen  years  before  he  and  the  la- 
mented Richardson  made  a  journey  together  by  stage  over  the  country 
we  have  just  traversed ;  his  strong  suit  then  was  abuse  of  Democrats 
as  the  proslavery  party.  Time  had  brought  even  greater  changes  in 
our  politics  than  in  the  wild  region  then  vaguely  known  as  the 
"  Pike's  Peak  country."  Three  days  we  rested  at  Denver,  a  beautiful 
city  with  a  happy  location.  But  its  merits  must  wait  recital  till  my 
next  visit ;  I  must  cut  short  my  stay,  as  the  weather  is  fast  getting  hot- 
ter and  dryer  where  I  am  going.  1  thought  I  knew  something  about 
high  tariffs  in  the  West,  but  when  I  go  to  inquire  about  the  fare  to 
Santa  Fe  the  intelligence  nearly  takes  my  breath. 

The  distance  is  four  hundred  and  fifteen  miles,  ninety  of  which  we 
go  by  rail,  and  the  rest  by  stage.  Fare  by  rail,  ten  cents  per  mile ;  by 
stage,  twenty  cents ;  total  to  Santa  Fe,  seventy-four  dollars,  with  a  dol- 
lar a  meal  on  the  road.  Moral :  Don't  go  to  Santa  Fe,  unless  you 
have  important  business.  From  what  I  hear,  the  rates  are  still  higher 


216 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


to  where  I  wish  to  go  in  Arizona,  with  the  comfort  added,  however, 
that,  in  all  probability,  I  can  not  get  there  at  all,  as  three  drivers  have 
lately  been  killed  by  the  Apaches.  Parties  are  organizing  with  a  view 
of  going  through  the  center  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  from  Santa 
Fe  to  Fort  Prescott ;  but  all  I  consult  here  shake  their  heads  doubt- 
fully on  the  subject.  However,  I  have  generally  observed  in  travel- 
ing that  dangers  lessen  as  one  draws  near  them.  At  Denver,  Mr.  De 
Bruler's  trip  ended,  much  to  my  regret,  for  I  was  just  entering  on  the 
region  where,  most  of  all,  I  should  need  an  intimate  companion.  For 

the  first  stage 
I  took  the 
Denver  & 
Rio  Grande 
R  a  i  1  r  o  a  d — 
the  neatest, 
queerest  lit- 
tle narrow- 
guage  in 
America,  but 
usually  called 
the  "  narrow- 
gouge,"  in 
delicate  satire 
on  its  rates 
of  fare.  Ten 
cents  per  mile 

is  high ;  but,  before  the  road  was  built,  it  was  twenty  cents  by  stage. 
The  road  had  no  land  subsidy,  and  the  travel  is  light  as  yet.  Most 
who  go  that  way  would  be  only  too  glad  to  pay  that  rate  all  the  way 
to  Santa  Fe. 

We  journey  at  a  sobre  passo  gait  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles  an  hour, 
southward  and  up  the  Platte  Valley,  which  has  the  appearance  of  an 
old,  settled,  and  cultivated  country.  The  farm-houses  are  in  much 
better  style,  and  the  system  of  irrigation  more  scientific  than  in  Utah. 
Farmers  are  plowing,  and  the  spring  crops  coming  forward  finely. 
About  10  A.  M.  we  leave  the  Platte  and  follow  up  a  small  stream  to 
the  "Divide."  Here  we  are  in  the  lumber  region,  as  shown  by  the 
immense  stacks  of  the  same  about  the  depots ;  and  the  "  Divide  Hotel 
and  Ranche  "  is  built  of  massive  pine  logs,  in  the  style  of  a  primitive 
"Hoosier"  cabin.  Behind  it,  the  cool,  dark-green  woods  invite  to  a 
halt,  and  in  front,  the  cold,  clear  pool,  fed  by  rivulets  from  snow- 


"  DIVIDE  HOTEL  AND  RANCHE.' 


JOURNEY  TO   THE  RIO  GRANDE.  217 

banks,  is  well  stocked  with  mountain  trout.  Singularly  enough,  near 
the  "  Divide,"  on  both  sides  are  considerable  fields  cultivated  without 
irrigation,  there  being  sufficient  rain  when  one  draws  near  the  summit 
and  the  timber!  The  timber  causes  the  rain,  or  the  rain  produces  the 
timber,  or  the  mountains  are  the  cause  of  both,  or  some  other  suf- 
ficient cause  accounts  for  all  three.  The  plainsmen  don't  know,  and 
perhaps  the  scientists  are  equally  wise. 

As  soon  as  we  pass  the  summit,  and  get  on  the  head-waters  of  the 
Fontaine  Que  Bouille,  we  see  on  all  the  slopes  immense  herds  of  cattle 
and  sheep.  At  Colorado  Springs  lives  one  man  who  has  13,000  sheep 
in  this  region,  and  I  am  reliably  informed  there  are  250,000  head  of 
stock  in  the  system  of  valleys  opening  out  on  this  stream.  The  coun- 
try is  evidently  one  of  the  best  in  the  world  for  sheep.  It  is  high, 
dry,  cool  in  summer,  and  not  very  cold  in  winter,  with  just  moisture 
enough  to  produce  good  grass.  For  about  fifty  miles  we  traverse  a 
beautiful  grazing  region.  At  the  Springs  we  stop  an  hour  for  dinner. 
Here  is  one  of  the  coming  towns  of  Colorado,  having  a  fine  fertile  val- 
ley, immense  grazing  area,  and  the  noted  chemical  springs — already  a 
great  place  of  fashionable  resort.  I  am  most  agreeably  surprised  by 
Southern  Colorado.  There  is  very  little  desert,  and,  except  the  bare 
mountains,  it  appears  to  me  a  country  of  great  natural  richness.  The 
valleys  are  very  fertile,  and  most  of  the  slopes  furnish  good  past-, 
urage. 

At  Little  Buttes  we  change  to  the  coach,  the  only  passengers  beside 
myself  being  Captain  Humphreys,  of  the  United  States  Army,  his  wife 
and  servant,  on  their  way  to  Fort  Union.  At  dark  we  make  a  brief 
halt  at  Pueblo,  and  are  off  for  the  night  ride.  The  first  night  in  a 
coach  is  always  worse  than  the  second ;  by  that  time  one's  sensibilities 
are  dulled,  and  he  can  sleep,  unless  the  pounding  is  harder  than  com- 
mon. We  breakfast  at  Cocharas,  an  old-style  Mexican  hacienda,  in  a 
beautiful  circular  valley,  seventy  miles  from  Little  Buttes.  I  am  still 
fresh  as  at  starting,  and  make  havoc  among  the  wheaten  cakes,  fried 
eggs,  and  chopped  and  stewed  mutton,  which,  with  coffee,  constitute 
our  breakfast — called  here,  however,  tortillas,  huevos,  came  and  cafe  re- 
spectively. A  plump  and  pretty  senorita  sits  by,  and  gives  me  my  first 
lesson  in  Spanish,  with  a  pleasing  variety  of  smiles  and  graceful  gest- 
ures. Our  driver  for  to-day  is  "  Fat  Jack,"  who,  ten  years  before, 
lived  in  Cincinnati,  and  might  have  traveled  as  the  "  Original  Living 
Skeleton."  Some  unnamable  and  wasting  disease  had  reduced  him 
to  less  than  ninety  pounds  weight.  He  started  West,  began  to  im- 
prove, reached  New  Mexico,  went  to  driving  stage,  and  now  weighs 


218  WESTERN   WILDS. 

two  hundred !      He  is  five  feet  four  inches  high,  and  four  feet  two 
inches  around  the  waist,  and  has  a  voice  like  a  fog-horn 

All  day  we  rolled  along,  the  four  horses  at-  a  sweeping  trot, 
over  the  finest  natural  roads  and  through  a  succession  of  sublime 
scenery  that  made  us  forget  fatigue.  For  a  mile  in  one  place  we 
drove  through  a  dog-town,  the  little  creatures  scampering  in  all  direc- 
tions but  a  few  rods  from  the  coach.  The  road  runs  just  far  enough 
from  the  base  of  the  mountains  to  secure  a  level  track ;  to  our  right 
were  the  red  hills  rising  to  blue  mountains,  and  above  them  the  ever- 
snow-clad  peaks ;  to  our  left  the  gently  rolling  plain  fading  away  till 
its  pale  green  surface  met  the  blue  horizon.  Most  of  the  day  the 
Spanish  Peaks  seemed  just  above  us,  westward;  in  front  was  Fisher's 
Peak,  of  the  Raton  Mountains,  glistening  white  with  snow.  For 
hours  the  last  named  looks  as  if  it  were  about  five  or  ten  miles 
away.  It  is  fifteen  miles  on  an  air  line — as  determined  by  the  U.  S. 
Engineers — from  the  hotel  in  Trinidad,  at  the  base  of  the  mountains. 
We  reach  that  place,  the  last  town  in  Colorado,  at  4  P.  M.,  rest  an 
hour,  take  supper,  and  change  to  a  small,  stout  uncomfortable  coach, 
in  which  to  make  the  passage  of  the  Raton.  We  reach  the  summit 
just  at  dark,  and  have  a  fearful  run  down  the  southern  side.  Fortu- 
nately we  can  not  see  the  danger,  if  there  is  any ;  and  have  nothing  to 
do  but  bounce  about  in  the  dark  inside  the  coach,  butt  each  other's 
heads,  shift  ballast  to  suit  the  pitching,  and  enjoy  ourselves  generally. 
About  midnight  the  jolting  ceases,  and  the  gentler  motion  indicates 
that  we  have  come  out  into  a  smooth  valley,  and  on  to  a  good  natural 
road.  We  compose  ourselves,  hang  to  the  straps  and  get  two  or  three 
hours  tolerable  sleep. 

Shortly  before  daylight  we  are  roused  by  the  driver,  with  notice  that 
an  important  bridge  has  been  washed  away,  leaving  only  a  foot-log, 
on  which  the  passengers  must  cross  while  the  coach  makes  a  circuit 
of  same  miles.  Our  party  of  four  were  soon  on  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  and,  by  the  light  of  a  lamp,  saw  a  fearful  gorge,  crossed  by 
one  narrow  log,  while  fifteen  feet  below  ran  a  stream  strong  enough 
to  wash  us  out  of  sight  in  a  moment.  In  vain  the  ladies  were  urged 
to  try  the  passage ;  lacking  confidence,  a  fall  would  have  been  certain. 
While  we  stood  shivering  on  the  brink,  like  a  group  of  sinners  ready 
to  cross  the  River  Styx,  I  noticed  that  the  banks  were  not  too  steep 
for  descent,  and  so  climbed  down  by  the  aid  of  rocks  and  bushes,  to 
the  water's  edge.  The  other  male  passenger  soon  followed,  and  we 
found  enough  of  the  ruins  to  construct  a  half-floating  bridge.  An 
hour's  labor,  with  the  driver  kneeling  on  the  log  above  to  light  us  to 


JOURNEY  TO  THE  RIO  GRANDE.  219 

our  work,  made  a  bridge  on  which  the  ladies  succeeded  in  being 
helped  across  with  fewer  screams  than  could  have  been  expected.  A 
short  walk  brought  us  to  the  next  station,  where  the  coach  overtook 
us  in  an  hour. 

We  are  now  out  upon  the  high  plains  of  north-eastern  New  Mexico, 
a  region  of  fierce  winds  and  chilling  rains  at  this  season,  inhabited 
only  by  nomadic  herders.  We  breakfast  at  Maxwell's  Ranche,  head- 
quarters of  the  Maxwell  estate,  an  old  Mexican  grant  containing  two 
or  three  hundred  square  miles,  including  fifty  sections  of  the  best  land 
in  New  Mexico,  and  one  gold  mine.  Maxwell  has  lately  sold  the 
grant  to  an  English  company,  who  are  bringing  in  machinery  to  work 
the  mine,  and  utilize  the  abundant  water-power.  A  good  breakfast, 
with  a  pint  of  hot  coffee  apiece,  restored  the  intellectual  balance, 
and  we  entered  upon  the  third  day  of  staging  with  renewed  vigor. 

We  travel  all  day  in  a  south-east  direction  over  rolling  plains  and 
low  mountain  spurs,  leaving  the  main  range  some  distance  to  the 
west,  and  cross  the  Rayado,  Ocate,  and  minor  tributaries  of  the  Can- 
adian. At  noon  a  cold  rain  comes  on,  changing  soon  to  a  light  sleet; 
we  are  miserable,  and  long  for  port.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we  reach 
Fort  Union,  when  Captain  Humphreys  and  family  leave  us,  and  my 
only  companion  is  a  young  German  thence  to  Las  Vegas.  This  is  a 
little  south  of  Santa  Fe  on  the  headwaters  of  the  Pecos  River.  It 
dates  back  to  the  early  days  of  Spanish  occupation,  and  is  a  rather 
prosperous  place  of  three  or  four  thousand.  There  our  coach  took  on 
three  U.  S.  army  officers  and  the  Right  Reverend  John  B.  Lamy, 
bishop  of  the  diocese,  who  exerted  himself  to  cheer  up  the  heavy 
hours  of  the  night  as  the  coach  labored  through  the  mountain  passes 
down  to  Santa  Fe.  The  cold  was  intense,  and  the  dawn  showed  three 
inches  of  freshly  fallen  snow.  The  open  growth  of  mountain  pines 
relieved  the  landscape  but  little ;  the  bare  knolls  looked  inexpressibly 
dreary,  and  the  dark  gorges  suggested  wild  beasts  and  banditti.  The 
rising  sun  illumined  the  ragged  peaks  to  our  left,  and  poured  a  flood 
of  light  through  the  side  cafions,  bringing  out  the  red  and  yellow 
stripes  upon  the  wind-worn  rocks,  and  producing  for  a  brief  space  a 
scene  of  strange,  weird  beauty.  At  one  station  the  occupants  were 
dressing  a  bear  which  they  had  killed  the  previous  night. 

This  is  my  fourth  day  of  continuous  travel,  and  I  begin  to 
weaken;  my  head  pitches  forward  and  back  in  involuntary  "cat- 
naps" of  a  minute  each.  After  four  hours  riding  down  hill, 
by  10  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  snow  had  disappeared;  once 
more  nature  asserted  herself,  and  I  was  really  feeling  bright  again 


220 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


when  we  came  in  sight  of  Santa  Fe.     In  all  my  travels  I  never  re- 
member being  so  disappointed.     One  might  pass  within  two  miles  of 

the  city  and 
miss  it.  It 
is  not  in 
the  Rio 
Grande 
Valley,  as 
I  had  sup- 
posed, but 
at  least 
twenty 
miles  from 
that  river, 
quite  in  a 
hollow,  and 
appears  a 
miserable, 
low,  fl  a  t 
collection 
o  f  in  u  d 
huts.  Some 
squares  are 
walled  i  n 
with  mud, 
stones  and 
adobes; 
then  the 
width  of  a 
house  roof- 
ed around 
the  square 
on  the  in- 
side; parti- 
tion walls 
are  built, 

passages  cut  through,  and  a  score  of  dwellings  in  one  group  are 
complete.  As  the  coach  rolls  through  the  narrow,  ugly  streets,  it 
looks  more  like  driving  through  a  dirt  cut  in  some  excavation  than 
the  streets  of  a  city.  As  we  near  the  center  of  town  these 
squares  seems  more  compact ;  holes  appear  to  have  been  cut  through, 


1  SUGGESTED  WILD  BEASTS  AND  BANDITTI." 


JOURNEY  TO  THE  RIO  GRANDE.  221 

making  shut  alleys  or  narrow  streets,  and  other  openings  show  the 
interior  of  these  mud-walled  squares  to  be  a  sort  of  stamping  ground 
in  common,  for  pigs,  chickens,  jackasses,  children,  ugly  old  women 
and  "  Greasers." 

Reaching  the  plaza,  things  look  a  little  better.  There  at  least  is  a 
patch  of  green,  a  tract  grown  up  in  alfalfa,  or  Spanish  clover.  We 
stop  at  the  Exchange,  the  only  hotel  in  the  city  for  white  men,  or 
rather  Americans,  the  other  'distinction,  though  perfectly  accurate,  not 
being  well  relished  here.  The  Exchange  is  a  one-story  square,  like 
all  the  rest;  but  across  the  middle  of  the  square  is  a  line  of  buildings 
containing  the  dining-room  and  kitchen,  and  dividing  the  stable-yard 
and  poultry  run  from  the  open  court  for  human  use.  An  arched  way 
between  the  kitchen  and  dining-room  connects  the  two  courts;  on  the 
human  side  women  and  children  take  their  recreation,  and  men  of 
quiet  or  literary  tastes  can  sit  and  read ;  while  the  stable  side  is  sacred 
to  dog-fights,  cock-fights,  wrestling-matches,  pitching  Mexican  dol- 
lars and  other  exclusively  manly  pursuits.  The  people  of  Santa  Fe 
evidently  do  not  take  in  their  philosophy  the  statement  that  •'•'  Man 
was  made  to  mourn." 

But  I  have  little  time  to  note  these  facts,  for  soon  after  leaving  the 
coach  my  head  is  rolling  as  in  a  fit  of  sea-sickness;  and  I  soon  take 
to  bed,  where  I  remain  for  fourteen  hours.  Rising  refreshed,  I  see 
the  city  in  a  fairer  light.  The  streets  are  dreary  in  themselves,  but 
the  wayfarers  are  picturesque.  Here  comes  a  mountaineer  with  a 
cabaUardo  of  donkeys,  each  bearing  his  little  load  of  wood  or  hay — 
piled  high  on  his  back  and  strapped  as  only  a  Mexican  can  strap  it. 
Next  is  a  well-to-do  citizen — always  fairer  than  the  common  people — 
with  all  the  pride  of  the  gente  fina ;  then  a  Pueblo  Indian  with  redder 
complexion  than  his  wild  congener,  and  curiously  striped  and  col- 
ored blanket  wrapping  his  stocky  form.  White  soldiers  in  blue  are 
numerous,  for  this  is  military  headquarters  for  a  large  district;  stylish 
officers  with  American  wives  brighten  the  principal  street  or  saunter 
in  the  plaza,  while  heavily  loaded  army  wagons  drag  slowly  through 
the  dust.  The  local  traders,  mostly  Jews,  add  not  a  little  to  the  com- 
fort of  the  place ;  they  speak  all  the  languages  used  here,  and  are  all 
things  to  all  men  to  make  it  pleasant  for  visitors. 

The  sun  shines  from  a  sky  of  dazzling  purity,  but  the  air  is  cool ; 
fires  are  necessary  in  the  hotel  parlor  except  for  a  few  hours  of  midday, 
and  I  wear  my  overcoat  on  the  streets.  The  city  has  a  summer 
climate  like  that  of  Quebec,  and  a  winter  atmosphere  much  like  that 
of  Tennessee.  All  this  is  a  surprise,  as  I  had  somehow  got  the  idea 


222  WESTERN  WILDS. 

that  Santa  Fe  was  in  a  hot  climate.  For  incipient  pulmonary  com- 
plaints it  is  most  excellent ;  those  in  an  advanced  stage  of  consump- 
tion die  very  suddenly  here.  Just  north-east  of  the  city,  though 
thirty  miles  away,  "Old  Baldy,"  the  noted  mountain  peak,  rears  its 
white  head  12,000  feet  high;  east  of  us  is  the  Rocky  Range;  on  both 
sides  of  the  city  abrupt  spurs  put  out  westward  toward  the  Rio 
Grande.  The  elevation  is  7,000  feet,  making  this  one  of  the  highest 
cities  in  America;  hence  to  the  Rio  Grande  is  all  the  way  down  hill, 
a  descent  of  some  twenty-two  hundred  feet. 

Santa  Fe  de  San  Francisco,  ("Holy  Faith  of  Saint  Francis,")  as 
the  old  Spaniards  named  this  city,  has  been  inhabited  by  white  men 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years;  and  long  before  that  by  Pueblos,  one 
of  their  old  towns  having  been  partly  on  the  same  site.  In  the  nar- 
row valley  of  Santa  Fe  Creek,  walled  in  on  all  sides  except  the  west, 
by  abrupt  mountains,  it  is  measurely  free  from  winter  storms.  On 
the  other  hand  a  suit  of  summer  clothes  is  seldom  seen  in  the  streets ; 
there  are  not  thirty  days  in  the  year  when  they  are  needed.  The 
place  looks  a  thousand  years  old;  the  dwellings  are  low,  flat  and  un- 
inviting. I  don't  think  there  are  twenty  two-story  houses  in  the  city. 
The  residences  of  some  of  the  officials  display  a  little  taste ;  two  or 
three  of  the  merchants  have  houses  with  pretty  surroundings,  and 
Bishop  Lamy  has  a  place  which  would  almost  be  considered  pretty  in 
Ohio.  I  saw  perhaps  a  dozen  gardens;  all  the  rest  of  the  view  is 
bare,  gray  and  dried-mud  color.  But  here  are  old  withered  Mexi- 
cans, whose  fathers  and  grandfathers  were  born,  lived  and  died  in 
this  valley ;  for  Santa  Fe  was  an  important  place  long  before  Wil- 
liam Penn  laid  out  Philadelphia.  Here  are  old  records  and  Spanish 
manuscripts,  with  which  an  antiquarian  might  spend  months  of  enjoy- 
ment. Yes,  Santa  Fe  has  one  great  merit — it  is  rich  in  historic  interest. 

The  Mexicans  are  a  strangely  polite,  lazy,  hospitable,  lascivious, 
kind,  careless  and  unprogressive  race.  The  town  saw  its  best  days 
many  years  ago,  when  the  Santa  Fe  trade  from  St.  Louis  and  Inde- 
pendence was  of  great  importance.  It  is  now  but  the  shell  of  former 
greatness.  The  population  is  claimed  to  be  6,000 ;  I  do  not  see 
where  they  put  them.  The  whites,  not  of  Spanish  origin,  number 
about  five  hundred.  The  Federal  officials  are  Americans,  from  the 
States;  most  of  the  Territorial  officers,  Mexicans.  It  is  a  wonder 
there  is  so  little  conflict  of  jurisdiction,  with  all  these  differences  of 
race  and  religion;  but  New  Mexico  is  politically  the  quietest 
of  the  Territories.  Instead  of  the  ever-recurring  religious  squabbles 
of  Utah,  or  the  internecine  political  strifes  of  Dakota,  these  people 


JOURNEY  TO    THE  RIO  GRANDE.  223 

seem  always  satisfied  with  what  the  officials  do,  if  it  is  within  a 
hundred  degrees  of  right.  They  consider  a  governor  as  only  one 
remove  below  the  Deity;  or,  rather  two  removes,  the  Virgin  Mary 
coming  next,  and  the  governor  being  about  on  the  same  degree  as 
St.  Peter.  To  one  like  myself,  accustomed  to  the  studied  contempt,  or 
lordly  indifference,  or  good-natured  and  irreverent  bonhommie,  with 
which  Territorial  governors  are  regarded,  respectively  in  Utah,  Colo- 
rado and  Dakota,  it  was  something  amusing  to  witness  old,  gray- 
headed  men,  with  hat  removed,  bowing  low  to  Governor  Giddings, 
and  to  hear  the  senoras  direct  their  children  as  he  passed,  "  No  hable 
uste  tanlo.  EL  Gobernador!"  Politeness  is  ingrained  in  all  Spanish- 
Americans. 

As  with  most  mixed  races,  the  standard  of  morals  is  not  high.  The 
gentefina,  or  tipper  classes,  mingle  very  little  with  the  common  people; 
socially  not  at  all.  Except  among  the  aristocracy,  who  seldom  in- 
vite travelers  to  their  houses,  there  seems  to  be  no  distinction  at  social 
gatherings  on  the  score  of  character.  The  indifference  on  that  subject 
would  astonish  most  Americans.  If  the  Stantons,  Anthonys,  etc.,  are 
really  in  earnest  in  the  statement  that  "woman  should  have  no  worse 
stigma  than  man  for  sexual  sins,"  they  would  certainly  be  gratified 
here,  for  the  disgrace  is,  at  least,  as  great  to  one  sex  as  the  other. 
Indeed,  I  think  the  general  judgment  for  marital  unfaithfulness  is 
more  severe  on  a  man  than  a  woman.  The  young  Americans  bring 
their  mistresses  to  the  baile  with  the  same  indifference  the  Mexicans 
do  their  sweethearts.  These  "girls"  are  scrupulously  polite,  and  so 
unlike  the  same  class  in  the  States,  that  it  can  only  be  accounted  for 
by  the  fact  that  they  see  no  disgrace  whatever  in  their  mode  of  life, 
and  feel  no  sort  of  social  degradation. 

A  visitor  with  any  reverence  in  his  composition  scarcely  knows 
whether  to  smile  or  sigh  at  that  "  faith  without  knowledge,"  which 
shows  in  all  their  customs,  and  most  of  all  in  their  names.  Jesus, 
Maria,  Mariano  and  Jose  (Joseph)  are  favorites,  the  second  and 
third  common  to  both  sexes.  A  prominent  citizen  is  Don  Jesus 
Vigil.  His  parents  probably  intended  him  for  a  "watchful  Chris- 
tian." Fortunately  for  sensitive  American  ears,  it  is  pronounced 
Haysoos  VeheeL  Irreverent  as  it  may  appear  in  me  to  write  it,  there 
is  a  well-known  citizen  whose  name  is  Jesus  A.  Christ  de  Vaca  (Hay- 
soos Antonio  Kreest  day  Svahca). 

Sometimes  among  the  gentefina,  the  marriage  contract  specifies  that 
the  sons  take  both  names  (united  by  "and"),  from  some  principle 
of  law  as  to  entailed  estates.  Thus  Don  Jose  Vigil  y  Alarid  is  the 


224  WESTERN  WILDS. 

son  of  a  lady  of  the  Alarid  family  married  to  Sefior  Vigil.  In  like 
manner  my  young  friends  insisted  that  my  rough  Saxon  patronymic 
did  not  suit  the  soft  Castilian,  and  I  became  Sefior  Juan  de  Bidello. 
All  Spanish-Americans  are  brilliant  in  nomenclature.  The  full  name 
of  a  cowherd  sounds  like  the  title  of  a  grandee.  Americans  who  set- 
tle in  the  country  very  often  translate  their  own  names,  or  give  them  a 
Castilian  termination.  By  such  process  Mr.  Meadows  becomes  Sefior 
Las  Vegas;  John  Boggs,  Sefior  Juan  de  Palos;  and  Jim  Gibbons 
flowers  out  as  Don  Santiago  de  Gibbonoise.  An  Irishman  from  Den- 
ver settled  near  El  Paso,  married  a  wealthy  Mexican  lady,  and  lives  in 
style;  his  original  name,  Tim  Murphy,  is  long  since  forgotten,  and 
he  signs  his  bank  checks  as  Timotheus  Murfando. 

Twelve  days  I  wandered  about  Santa  Fe,  finding  much  to  interest, 
and  picking  up  a  smattering  of  the  language  to  serve  me  in  my  trav- 
els westward.  Daily  I  studied  the  routes  through  Arizona,  and  each 
day  brought  fresh  tales  of  disaster.  First  came  a  Mexican  from  El 
Paso,  whose  two  companions  were  killed  by  Indians  on  the  edge  of 
the  Jornada  del  Muerto ;  and  next  a  ranchero  from  the  south-western 
border,  whose  Mexican  herders  were  killed,  and  all  his  stock  run  off 
by  the  Mescalero  Apaches.  And  while  he  was  .yet  speaking  came 
another  messenger,  and  said  that  nine  prospectors,  who  left  by  the 
northern  route,  went  too  far  south,  fell  into  an  ambuscade,  and  "their 
scalps  now  ornament  the  lodges  of  Collyer's  pets."  Simultaneously 
a  lieutenant  and  sergeant  of  cavalry  were  ambuscaded  in  the  Alamosa 
and  their  animals  "niched"  with  arrows.  Drawing  their  revolvers, 
they  dashed  bravely  on,  firing  right  and  left,  knowing  that  to  be  their 
only  chance  for  life,  and,  by  rare  good  fortune,  got  through  and  into 
the  open  plain.  Sorely  wounded,  and  compelled  to  abandon  their 
exhausted  animals,  only  the  darkness  of  night  prevented  their 
capture. 

We  next  receive  Arizona  papers  with  the  information  that  the  east- 
ern coach  was  attacked  near  Tucson,  and  the  driver  and  messenger 

7  O 

killed;  and  that  the  western  coach  was  robbed  beyond  Fort  Yuma 
by  Mexican  ladrones,  and  the  station-keeper  and  one  messenger  mur- 
dered. The  white  population  of  Arizona  was  9,600,  and  they  then 
averaged  a  loss  of  twenty  per  month  by  Apaches  and  Mexicans — 
about  half  the  ordinary  mortality  of  an  army.  All  things  considered, 
I  concluded  to  try  the  northern  route.  A  soldier  was  about  to  start 
for  Fort  Wingate  with  a  wagon-load  of  provisions ;  and  General  My- 
ers, quartermaster,  kindly  gave  me  passage  with  him.  From  Win- 
gate  I  thought  to  catch  some  kind  of  an  expedition  to  Prescott. 


JOURNEY  TO  THE  RIO  GRANDE. 


225 


There  were  stretches  of  fifty  miles  on  that  line  without  grass  or  wa- 
ter, but  no  hostile  Indians,  which  suited  me  admirably.  By  waiting 
a  month  I  could  have  gone  to  the  Little  Colorado  with  a  party  of 
engineers;  but  life  is  too  short  to  stay  a  whole  month  in  Santa  Fe. 
At  noon  of  May  22d  I  took  my  seat  on  an  army  wagon,  and  rolled 


"DRAWING  THE1K  REVOLVERS,  THEY  DASHED  BRAVELY  ON." 

out  of  the  New  Mexican  capital.  Crossing  the  Rio  de  Santa  Fe,  we 
left  the  valley  and  struck  across  the  mesa  in  a  south-west  direction,  the 
city  behind  us  appearing  to  sink  slowly  into  the  earth.  Looking 
back  upon  it,  this  noted  town  appeared  to  my  eye  exactly  like  a  col- 
lection of  old  brick  yards.  It  is  my  invariable  custom  to  say  some- 
thing good  of  a  town  on  departing,  if  I  can  possibly  think  of  a  good 
thing  to  say,  but  Santa  Fe  "  raises  me  out."  It  was  an  important 
15 


226  WESTERN  WILDS. 

place  in  the  old  days  of  freighting  from  the  Missouri  border,  because 
it  was  on  the  first  level  and  fertile  piece  of  ground  the  trains  could 
reach  after  getting  through  the  mountain  passes.  But  it  can  never  be 
a  railroad  center,  though  it  may  some  day  have  a  branch  road. 

My  only  companion  from  Santa  Fe  to  Fort  Wingate  was  Frank 
Hamilton,  of  the  Eighth  United  States  Cavalry,  stationed  at  that  post. 
Frank  had  been  detailed  to  come  to  Santa  Fe  on  military  business, 
and  had  improved  the  occasion  by  getting  gloriously  drunk,  in  which 
condition  he  remained  most  of  the  time  he  was  there,  and  was  barely 
sober  enough  to  know  the  road.  His  first  move  was  down  a  three- 
foot  bank  into  the  Santa  Fe.  I  jumped  into  the  water  to  avoid  a  fall 
on  the  rocks,  which  stuck  up  sharply  on  the  other  side;  but  the 
wagon  careened  half  over,  lodged  and  righted  again,  when  the  mules 
took  a  forward  surge,  so  I  got  off  with  nothing  worse  than  a  drench- 
ing. Hamilton,  being  drunk,  and  limber  as  a  rag,  of  course  escaped 
injury.  For  \varrnth  and  dryness'  sake  I  walked  most  of  the 
afternoon. 

We  turn  south-west,  rising  by  successive  "  benches  "  to  a  vast  bar- 
ren table-land.  We  pass  in  the  afternoon  one  Mexican  hamlet,  look- 
ing like  a  collection  of  half  a  dozen  "  green  "  brick-yards — dry,  hard, 
dusty  and  desolate.  Crossing  the  high  mesa,  level  as  the  sea,  we  ap- 
proach an  irregular  line  of  rocks,  rising  like  turrets  ten  or  twenty  feet 
above  the  plain,  which  we  find  to  be  a  sort  of  a  natural  battlement 
along  the  edge  of  the  "  big  hill."  Reaching  the  cliff  we  see,  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees  below  us,  in  a  narrow  valley,  the  town  of 
La  Bajada.  Down  the  face  of  this  hill  the  road  winds  in  a  series  of 
zigzags,  bounded  in  the  worst  places  by  rocky  walls,  descending  fif- 
teen hundred  feet  in  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  La  Bajada  is  the  stere- 
otyped New  Mexican  town — a  collection  of  mud-huts,  among  which 
one  or  two  whitewashed  domos  indicate  the  residences  of  persons  of 
the  genie  fina  (hen-la  fee-nafi),  or,  as  they  themselves  style  it,  of  the 
sang  re  azul  (blue  blood). 

The  town  has  a  hotel,  consisting  of  a  quadrangle  of  rooms  around 
an  open  square,  which  contains  some  flowers,  two  shade- trees,  benches, 
and  wash-stands.  The  rooms  have  floors  of  wood,  instead  of  dirt;  the 
walls  are  whitewashed;  two  mirrors  and  a  buffalo-skin  lounge  adorn 
the  sitting-room,  and  generally  the  place  ranks  high.  Two  bright- 
eyed,  graceful,  copper-colored  senoritas  bring  me  a  supper  of  coffee, 
side  meat,  eggs  and  tortillas  de  mats,  and  entertain  me  with  a  vo- 
luminous account,  in  musical  Spanish,  of  their  personal  recollections 
of  the  place.  I  have  learned  enough  of  the  language  to  be  able  to 


JOURNEY  TO   THE  RIO   GRANDE.  227 

say  "  ah,"  "  yes/'  and  "  no  "  at  nearly  the  right  place,  and  that  is  the 
most  required  to  keep  a  Mexican  woman  social.  My  companion,  jolly 
drunk,  was  barely  able  to  get  his  team  into  the  corral,  when  he  fell 
back  into  the  wagon  asleep,  and,  as  he  was  the  cook  of  our  outfit,  I 
was  obliged  to  stay  o^rer  night  at  the  hotel.  Except  the  two  houses 
mentioned,  the  whole  town  is  of  a  uniform  dull  clay  color,  walls  of 
of  mud,  fences  of  mud,  door  and  window-casings  of  mud-colored 
wood,  roofs  of  slightly  sloping  poles,  covered  with  earth  two  or  three 
feet  thick,  floors  of  native  earth  beaten  hard,  and  nowhere  a  patch  of 
grass  to  relieve  the  wearied  eye.  It  is  one  of  the  few  Mexican  towns 
not  named  after  some  saint;  La  Bajada  means  "The  Descent,"  the 
words  being  pronounced  together,  Lavvahadda. 

Thence,  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  we  journey  at  a  sobre  passo  gait  of 
two  miles  an  hour,  down  the  valley  towards  the  Rio  Grande.  The  first 
point  of  interest  is  the  Pueblo  of  Santo  Domingo,  where  I  visit  for  an 
hour.  The  houses  are  all  in  a  bunch ;  a  few  have  doors,  but  most  are 
still  entered  from  the  roof,  there  being  a  ladder  or  rude  stairway  at 
the  corner.  All  the  men  were  in  the  public  field  at  work,  and  the 
women  and  children  appeared  strangely  quiet  and  undemonstrative. 
The  only  man  I  met  accompanied  me  three  miles  on  the  road.  He 
gave  his  name  as  Antonio  Gomez,  and  talked  fluently  of  their  mode 
of  life  and  system  of  government.  We  were  more  social,  indeed,  than 
could  have  been  expected  of  men  with  but  a  few  hundred  words  in 
common ;  but  words  are  like  dollars — a  few  go  a  long  ways  when  one 
is  pinched.  But  my  main  question  :  "  How  many  years  since  your 
people '  first  came  here  ?"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh  :  "  Quidn  sabe  ? 
Quisas  doce  quinientos !"  (Who  knows?  Perhaps  a  dozen  times  five 
hundred  !)  They  generally  reckon  by  tens  ;  are  seldom  able  to  count 
high  numbers,  and  any  thing  above  two  or  three  hundred  is  "  infinity," 
vaguely  expressed  by  quinientos. 

Three  miles  brought  us  down  into  a  beautiful  vega,  containing  some 
two  miles  square  of  rich,  natural  meadow,  on  which  the  Pueblos  had 
several  hundred  head  of  horses  and  mules.  My  companion  pointed 
out  with  some  pride  his  own  manada  of  sixty  mules  and  mares,  at- 
tended by  his  three  boys,  and  urged  me  to  stop  at  his  rancheria  and 
take  dinner.  But  appearances  were  not  inviting,  so  I  plead  no  tiempo, 
and  hurried  on  after  the  team,  Antonio  leaving  me  with  a  friendly 
grasp,  and,  "Addio,  Senor,  pasa  buenas  dies."  (May  you  pass  good 
days.)  A  little  farther  on  we  drove  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the 
river,  where  some  twenty  Pueblos  were  hauling  a  rude  seine.  They 
held  up  some  good-sized  fish,  shouting  the  price,  but,  on  my  de- 


228  WESTERN  WILDS. 

clining,  waved  me  off  with,  "Buena  Jornada,  Seflor!"  (A  good  jour- 
ney, sir.) 

We  pass  the  little  pueblo  of  San  Felipe,  and  from  this  vega  rise  to 
another  desert — for  ten  miles  the  same  eye-wearying  panorama  of  dry 
sand,  dark-gray  rock,  and  treeless,  grassless  mesa,  the  whole  un- 
inhabited. About  3  P.  M.  we  descend  to  another  oasis  of  two  or 
three  square  miles,  where  we  spend  the  night  at  the  town  of  Al- 
godones.  All  that  I  had  previously  seen  of  unsightly  Mexican  towns 
is  eclipsed  by  this  straggling  row  of  unburnt  brick-kilns — walls, 
fences,  houses,  fields  and  corrals  of  dried  mud.  My  companion  had 
fortunately  got  sober  enough  to  cook  our  supper,  while  I  hunted  for 
some  additions  to  our  fare,  which  consisted  of  army  bread,  pork, 
coffee  and  potatoes.  I  found  three  luxuries  for  sale  :  vino  de  pais  (na- 
tive wine),  eggs  and  goat's  milk.  My  soldier  took  the  milk  by 
choice,  but  I  confined  myself  to  the  eggs  and  wine,  with  the  regular 
fare.  After  supper  I  ran  about  town  till  I  found  one  intelligent  cit- 
izen, who  gave  me  much  information  about  the  country,  in  a  mixture 
of  French  and  Spanish.  "  When  will  the  thirty-fifth  parallel  road  be 
built?"  and  "Will  New  Mexico  be  admitted  soon  as  a  State?"  were 
the  questions  on  which  he  earnestly  desired  information.  He  set  forth 
the  arguments  for  a  State  government  at  great  length.  The  strongest, 
in  his  estimation,  seemed  to  be,  "  The  rich  (los  ricos)  are  all  in  favor 
of  it."  As  they  must  pay  the  expense,  he  thought  they  should  have 
whatever  they  wanted. 

We  were  off  at  six  next  morning,  and  a  few  miles  from  Algodones 
entered  the  great  oasis  of  Albuquerque,  the  largest  body  of  good 
land  in  New  Mexico.  For  nearly  a  hundred  miles,  with  slight 
breaks,  extends  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande,  varying  from  two 
to  eight  miles  wide.  In  this  portion  an  acecquia,  taken  out  of  the 
river  above,  runs  along  the  bluffs,  from  which  side-ditches,  one  every 
furlong  or  oftener,  convey  the  water  among  the  fields.  There  we  see 
ridges  of  dirt  thrown  up,  dividing  the  field  into  little  squares  of  some 
five  rods  each,  to  hold  the  water.  The  labor  of  irrigating  seems  much 
greater  than  in  Utah.  In  comparison  with  the  sterile  mesas  we  have 
crossed,  this  fertile  strip  seems  a  very  Eden.  Wheat,  which  at  Santa 
Fe  was  just  high  enough  to  give  a  faint  tinge  of  green,  is  here  a  foot 
high,  rank  and  thrifty.  We  are  twenty-two  hundred  feet  lower  than 
that  city,  and  in  a  climate  at  least  ten  degrees  warmer.  Not  more  than 
one-tenth  of  the  whole  area  of  New  Mexico  is  fit  for  cultivation.  Even 
of  that  so  fit,  not  more  than  half  lies  in  a  position  to  be  irrigated,  with 
the  present  system.  But  that  which  is  fertile  is  exceedingly  so. 


JOURNEY  TO   THE  RIO  GRANDE.  229 

At  least  five-sixths  of  the  population  of  New  Mexico  lives  in  the 
Rio  Grande  Valley,  or  along  its  immediate  tributaries;  there  are  all 
the  important  towns,  while  one  may  cross  the  country  from  east  to 
west,  and  travel  for  days  without  sight  of  a  dwelling  or  green  spot. 
In  most  towns  one^sees  no  shade  trees,  no  rills  of  sparkling  water 
coursing  the  streets  as  in  Utah  or  Colorado ;  even  the  Rio  Grande  is 
often  exhausted  in  dry  weather,  and  the  many  irrigating  ditches  it 
supplies  leave  its  bed  dry  for  miles.  Albuquerque  appears  in  the 
distance  like  a  collection  of  brick-yards  unbui-nt;  but  a  nearer  view 
shows  many  vineyards  and  gardens.  Among  the  little  farms  near  the 
city,  the  inhabitants  are  repairing  their  fences,  as  usual  just  before 
the  summer  drought.  A  box-frame,  some  two  feet  square  and  a  foot 
deep,  with  no  bottom,  is  placed  upon  the  ground  and  filled  with  tough 
mud  mingled  with  a  little  grass ;  then,  the  frame  being  lifted,  leaves  a 
section  of  the  wall  in  place  to  be  hardened  and  whitened  (a  little)  by 
the  sun.  Successive  blocks  are  stacked  on  this,  till  the  mud  wall  is 
four  or  five  feet  high.  Such  are  the  only  fences  one  can  see  for  days 
of  travel  along  the  Rio  Grande. 

Reaching  Albuquerque  my  soldier  decided  that  he  had  enough 
money  left  for  a  two  days'  spree ;  we  would  therefore  remain  till 
Sunday  morning.  So  I  rested,  wrote,  and  rambled  in  the  queer,  flat, 
old  city,  calling  also  on  the  padre,  who  is  usually  the  most  intelligent 
man  in  a  Mexican  town.  All  the  acting  padres  are  now  French  or 
Irish  ;  the  native  Mexican  priests  have  been  retired,  whether  on  half- 
pay  or  not  I  did  not  learn.  The  padre  gave  me  many  facts :  that  the 
oasis  of  Albuquerque  was  some  eighty  miles  long,  and  averaged  four 
miles  wide,  and  that  it  was  now  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  since  the 
Spanish  Duke  of  Albuquerque  encamped  on  this  spot,  though  the  city 
is  not  so  old.  His  name  in  full  was  Don  Alphonso  Herrera  Ponto 
Delgado  de  Albuquerque.  I  asked  the  padre  "what  was  his  front 
name,"  but  he  did  not  seem  to  know.  His  descendants  now  belong  to 
the  gente  fina,  that  is  to  say,  the  first  families  before  mentioned — peo- 
ple who  have  the  sangre  azul  in  their  veins.  The  city  is  some  two 
hundred  years  old,  contains  about  2,000  people,  and  boasts  of  the 
finest  church  in  New  Mexico — a  stately  pile  of  adobes,  with  two  lofty 
and  whitewashed  towers.  The  people  generally  are  poor,  pious,  and 
contented.  A  palacio  of  dried  mud,  a  meal  of  corn  and  plmicnto, 
and  a  slip  of  corn-shuck  filled  with  tobacco  and  rolled  into  a  cigar- 
ette, is  the  height  of  a  "Greaser's"  ambition. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

TOLTECCAN. 

ALVAR  NUNEZ  CABEZA  DE  VACA  was  the  first  European  who 
stood  upon  the  soil  of  New  Mexico.  A  survivor  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Pamphilo  cle  Narvaez's  expedition,  he  wandered  for  ten  years 

among  the  aborigines  between  the 
Mississippi  and  Gulf  of  California; 
reached  the  Spanish  settlements  in 
Mexico,  and  lived  to  Write  a  book 
as  full  of  marvels  as  Swift's  Gulli- 
ver. The  miracles,  supernatural 
cures,  and  other  nonsense  in  the 
work,  have  caused  many  to  reject 
it  entire;  but  as  it  is  proved  by 
other  testimony  that  he  went  into 
the  wilderness  at  one  time  and 
came  out  of  it  at  another,  and  as 
his  descriptions  of  places  are  as 
correct  as  could  be  written  to- 
day, we  are  justified  in  regarding  the  possible  part  of  it  as  true. 
The  private  journal  of  Vaca  begins  on  the  4th  of  September, 
1527,  when  the  few  survivors  of  the  Narvaez  expedition  were 
making  boats  to  go  to  Mexico.  All  these  boats  were  lost  except 
that  of  Vaca,  which  was  wrecked  upon  the*  coast  of  Texas.  With 
some  fifteen  others  he  was  captured  by  the  Indians ;  and  of  this 
number  but  three  reached  Mexico  with  him — Dorantes  and  Castillo, 
Spaniards,  and  a  Barbary  negro  named  Estevanico.  Sometimes 
slaves,  sometimes  peddlers,  and  again  treated  as  guests  and  acting 
as  physicians,  they  got  as  far  north  as  the  Canadian  River.  Then 
they  turned  westward,  traversed  what  Vaca  called  the  "  cow  country," 
and  came  to  a  desert.  Crossing  this  with  much  suffering,  they 
visited  in  turn  nearly  all  the  strange  tribes  of  New  Mexico,  and 
at  last  reached  the  vicinity  of  the  Gulf  of  California.  There  they 
came  upon  the  force  commanded  by  Diego  de  Alcaraz,  who  was 
exploring  the  country  under  orders  of  the  Viceroy  of  New  Spain 

(230) 


TOLTECCAN.  231 

(Mexico).  Thence  they  went  to  the  City  of  Mexico,  being  every- 
where received  with  public  demonstrations,  and  ending  their  jour- 
ney "on  the  day  before  the  vespers  of  Saint  James,"  in  1536.  Vaca 
afterwards  married  a  wealthy  Spanish  lady,  and  attained  to  consid- 
erable rank.  In  Pefia  Blanca,  New  Mexico,  lives  one  Don  Tomas 
Cabeza  de  Vaca  (who  will  probably  be  Governor  if  the  Territory 
soon  becomes  a  State),  who  is  the  tenth  in  direct  descent  from 
Alvar  Nunez. 

The  next  expedition  into  New  Mexico  was  by  Don  Francisco  Vas- 
quez  Coronado,  in  command  of  some  seven  hundred  cavaliers,  in  the 
years  1540-'46,  in  search  of  the  "Seven  Cities  of  Cibola."  At  that 
time  all  this  region  was  called  by  the  Spaniards  Cibola.  This  word 
in  the  Spanish  lexicons  is  translated  "A  quadruped  called  the  Mexican 
bull;"  but  in  Mexico  it  means  the  buffalo.  The  cities  Coronado 
went  to  find  were  said  to  be  situated  in  a  vast  oval  valley,  the  most 
fertile  on  earth,  and  walled  in  by  mountains  full  of  rich  mines;  they 
were  paved  with  gold  and  silver,  the  houses  lighted  with  precious 
stones,  and  the  richest  metals  were  in  common  use  for  domestic 
utensils.  In  short,  it  was  the  biggest  kind  of  &  bonanza.  But  they 
never  found  the  cities,  though  they  hunted  six  or  seven  years,  and,  by 
the  right  of  first  occupation,  added  to  the  Spanish  possessions  a  region 
twelve  times  the  size  of  Ohio.  All  this  but  twenty  years  after  the 
conquest  of  Cortez,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  before  the  found- 
ing of  Cincinnati. 

Coronado  returned  to  the  city  of  Mexico  in  disappointment  and 
disgrace ;  but  with  him  was  a  gentleman  and  scholar  named  Castaneda, 
who  wrote  a  very  fascinating  account  of_the  trip,  and  incited  others  to 
turn  explorers.  He  described  most  of  the  important  mountains,  rivers 
and  tribes  of  Arizona,  New  Mexico  and  North-western  Texas ;  and 
thirty  years  after  him,  two  friars  led  in  a  small  missionary  company, 
of  whom  all  were  killed  by  the  Indians.  Next  came  Antonio  de  Es- 
pejo,  who  is  credited  with  having  founded  Santa  Fe  in  1580;  and 
after  him  Don  Juan  de  Onati,  who  made  the  first  permanent  settle- 
ments, about  1591.  Other  colonists  followed  fast,  but  seventy  years 
afterwards  the  Pueblos,  native  Indians,  rebelled  and  drove  out  or 
massacred  the  Spaniards.  Governor  Otermin  and  General  Vargas 
soon  carne  back  with  a  Spanish  army,  and  by  a  bloody  war  thoroughly 
subjugated  the  Pueblos.  The  more  warlike  fled  to  valleys  in  the 
western  mountains;  the  remainder  settled  into  docile  subjects  of 
Spain,  and  in  time  became  devoted  Catholics. 

For  a  hundred   years   after   the   conquest    miscegenation  went    on 


232  WESTERN   WILDS. 

rapidly,  producing  the  present  Mexican  race;  then,  by  the  operation 
of  some  mysterious  law  it  ceased,  and  the  people  now  appear  fixed  in 
permanent  types.  It  is  as  rare  for  one  of  the  upper  classes  to  marry 
among  the  common  people  as  for  white  and  colored  to  marry  in  the 
States.  In  nearly  all  lands  where  there  are  mixed  bloods,  the  ruling 
caste  is  the  whitest.  In  the  Turkish  and  the  Mexican  armies  the  offi- 
cers are  quite  fair ;  the  common  soldiers  dark  as  Indians.  The  genie 
fina  of  New  Mexico  are  comparatively  mild  brunettes ;  but  the 
"greasers"  are  at  least  mulatto  color.  In  the  States  we  say  "as  dark 
as  a  Spaniard ; "  in  Mexico  they  say  "  as  fair  as  a  Spaniard."  We 
take  our  idea  from  the  mixed  races;  they  take  theirs  from  the  pure 
Castilians  they  see,  who  are  fair  as  Scotchmen.  Their  Creole  descend- 
ants in  Mexico  and  the  South-west  are  almost  equally  fair,  but  often 
delicate  in  physique  and  devoid  of  energy.  I  have  spoken  of  their 
long  names.  When  one  inherits  several  estates  his  title  often  includes 
the  names  of  all  of  them ;  and  it  is  reported  that  the  "  shoddy  "  some- 
times insist  on  being  addressed  by  the  full  title.  Hence  the  follow- 
ing (reported)  sad  occurrence  :  A  young  nobleman,  Lopez  y  Interlo- 
pez  de  las  Casas  Filatas  y  Amau  de  Cor,  was  walking  with  his  in- 
tended, Sefiorita  Inez  Pranalada,  along  the  Rio  Grande,  her  mother 
acting  as  duenna.  While  he  was  at  a  distance  Inez  fell  into  the 
river,  and  the  mother  screamed,  "  Oh,  Seilor  Lopez  y  Interlopez  de 
las  Casas  Filatas" — but  by  this  time  the  fair  Inez  had  sunk  to  rise  no 
more. 

In  New  Mexico  there  are  about  half  a  dozen  castes,  the  regular 
dark  Mexicans  outnumbering  all  others.  The  population  is  classified 
thus : 

Americans          ........    6,000 

Mexicans  ........  86,000 

Citizen  Indians  (Pueblos)          ......  10,000 

Wild  Indians  (perhaps)  .  .  .  .-•••.  .  20,000 

Total, 122,000 

The  common  people  are  incredibly  poor.  If  a  late  peon,  now  free, 
has  a  dollar,  he  neither  labors  nor  thinks  till  it  is  gone.  Twenty-five 
cents  of  it  buys  flour,  twenty-five  goes  for  dulces  for  the  senora, 
another  twenty-five  pays  for  absolution,  and  the  rest  buys  a  lottery 
ticket.  No  matter  if  his  ticket  draw  a  blank  a  hundred  times  in 
succession:  "maybe  some  time  I  win,"  is  to  him  sufficient  answer.  A 
few  families  own  all  the  wealth  of  the  country.  Even  they  have  their 
wealth  mostly  in  flocks  and  herds,  and  immense  as  it  is,  it  brings  them 
but  few  of  the  luxuries  of  life.  If  this  Territory  is  admitted  now  as 


TO  LT EC  CAN.  233 

a  State,  it  ought  to  be  called  the  State  of  Pobritta  ("  Little  Poverty.") 
Each  of  these  wealthy  families  has  from  a  hundred  to  two  thousand 
dependents,  some  of  whom  were  their  peons  before  that  system  was 
abolished,  and  continue  to  yield  obedience  by  nature  and  habit.  If  a 
State,  this  would  be  a  most  complete  "  rotten  borough  " — the  worst 
"carpet-bag"  State  in  the  Union.  Fifteen  families  with  ease  would 
rule  it — the  Chaves,  Gallegos,  Delgados,  Senas,  Garcias,  Pereas, 
Oteros,  Quintanas,  and  a  few  others.  These  families  have  three- 
fourths  of  the  wealth  of  the  Territory,  and  all  the  influence.  The 
poor  Mexicans  do  any  thing  they  are  told;  in  fact  don't  know  how  to 
do  otherwise  than  as  they  are  told.  These  families,  in  combination 
with  half  a  dozen  priests,  and  a  dozen  or  more  Americans,  would  di- 
vide the  home  offices  between  them,  and  send  whomsoever  they 
pleased  to  Congress.  It  is  usually  the  aim  of  speculative  Americans 
to  "  stand  in "  with  one  of  the  noble  families.  But  many  of  our 
people  have  disdained  such  sycophancy,  and  yet  won  for  themselves 
an  honorable  place  in  New  Mexican  annals.  Chief  among  these  was 
the  noted  Kit  Carson,  scout,  trapper,  and  hunter  ;  then  guide  to  Fre- 
mont, and  afterwards  Federal  colonel,  and  last  of  all  Indian  Agent  for 
the  Utes,  in  which  capacity  he  died  at  his  home  in  Taos. 

The  Pueblos  are  evidently  a  decaying  race.  Anciently  they  con- 
sisted of  four  nations :  the  Piros,  Teguas,  Queres  and  Tagnos.  Ac- 
cording to  their  own  account  they  number  only  one-tenth  what  they 
did  before  the  conquest.  A  regular  pueblo  ("  village  ")  consists  of  a  large 
square,  with  open  court  in  the  center;  the  stories  rise  in  terraces,  each 
giving  back  a  few  feet  from  the  one  below.  There  are  no  doors  on  the 
outside,  the  entrance  on  the  roof  being  reached  by  a  ladder.  But  in 
the  long  peace  they  are  slowly  adopting  the  style  of  dwelling  used  by 
the  Mexicans.  They  are  stout  and  muscular,  with  rather  pleasant 
countenances ;  speak  Spanish  fluently,  but  learn  English  with  diffi- 
culty, and  never  teach  others  their  language.  They  dress  in  woolen 
of  their  own  manufacture,  and  are  very  industrious,  chaste,  and  honest. 

Who  are  they?  is  the  puzzling  question.  They  did  not  learn  their 
civilization  from  the  Spaniards,  that  is  certain ;  but  were  found  by  the 
latter  almost  as  far  advanced  as  to-day.  Castaneda  says  the  Pueblos 
came  with  a  nation  from  the  north-west,  and  their  own  tradition  is 
that  they  are  Montezumas  Indians.  Against  this,  however, 
Baron  Humboldt  contended  that  the  Aztec  language  differed  essen- 
tially from  that  of  the  Pueblos,  and  Castaneda  further  says  that 
they  were  unknown  to  the  people  of  Mexico  until  Cabeza  de  Vaca 
and  his  companions  brought  account  of  them.  Before  1871,  they 


234 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


were  not  considered  citizens;  then  the  question  was  raised,  and  the 
Supreme  Court  pronounced  them  legal  voters.  They  still  dress  in  the 
ancient  costume,  which  is  neither  Indian  nor  Spanish,  but  a  sort  of 
mixture,  with  pantaloons  somewhat  in  the  Turkish  style,  and  when  in 


..*»*• 

.«•»• 


KIT  CAlt-ON. 


full  dress  with  a  profusion  of  red  and  yellow.  They  inhabit  twenty- 
six  villages,  principally  in  the  valley  of  the  Rio  Grande,  the  most  im- 
portant of  which  is  San  Juan,  thirty  miles  north-west  of  Santa  Fe. 
They  live  totally  distinct  from  the  surrounding  Mexicans,  each  village 
having  its  own  government,  and  no  bond  of  union  between  them;  but 
all  live  in  the  greatest  harmony  with  their  neighbors.  Each  village 


TO  LT EC  CAN. 


235 


PUEBLO    CACIQUE. 


has  a  governor,  a  cacique  or  justice,  &  fiscal  or  constable,  and  a  "coun- 
cil of  wise  men."  Besides  these  civil  officers  there  is  also  a  war  cap- 
tain, who  attends  to  military  affairs. 

The  territorial  government  will  average  with  that  of  other  Terri- 
tories. "Since  the  Occupation,"  meaning  since  the  Americans  took 
possession,  is  a  phrase  in  constant  use  like  "  Since  the  war "  in  the 
South.  After  the  conquest  in  1590-'95  comes  a  list  of  forty-six  Span- 
ish and  Mexican  captain-generals 
who  governed  the  country,  end- 
ing with  General  Manuel  Armijo 
in  1846,  who  gathered  a  large 
army  to  meet  the  Americans, 
marched  out  to  the  pass  command- 
ing the  country,  and  then  marched 
back  again,  abandoning  the  prov- 
ince without  firing  a  shot.  The 
Americans  took  possession,  set  up 
a  feeble  government  and  passed 
on ;  the  Mexicans  rose,  treacher- 
ously massacred  the  officials  and 
several  other  Americans,  and  were 
again  subdued.  They  are  now  apparently  as  good  "  Yankees  "  as  any 
of  us. 

They  are  very  tenacious  of  all  their  old  customs  in  the  administra- 
tion of  law.  They  stipulated  for  this  at  the  American  occupation, 
and  General  Kearney,  by  proclamation,  continued  all  their  judicial 
officers  with  the  same  code ;  and  as  the  civil  or  canon  law  was  in  force 
in  all  Spanish  America,  it  is  the  common  law  of  New  Mexico  to-day. 
Under  it  the  power  of  parents  is  practically  almost  without  limits — 
no  matter  what  age  their  offspring  may  be.  A  son  who  lives  with  his 
mother  is  subject  to  her  orders  always,  and  the  alcalde  in  rural  dis.- 
tricts  is  occasionally  called  upon  by  a  woman  whose  "  boy  "  of  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  has  rebelled.  In  such  cases  the  alcalde  goes  with  his 
constable,  arrests  the  "  boy,"  puts  a  riata  into  the  hands  of  the  mother 
and  bids  her  lay  on  until  the  youth  roars  for  mercy.  Sometimes  a 
senorita  living  with  an  American  is  punished  severely  by  her  mother 
for  some  slight  to  her  "  man ; "  and  though  he  protest,  the  mother 
asserts  her  right. 

Their  lack  of  enterprise  produces  ludicrous  results.  I  saw  but  one 
Mexican  wagon  in  Santa  Fe,  and  that  had  broken  down.  Every 
thing  is  transported  on  the  backs  of  burros,  the  native  breed  of  asses. 


236  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Occasionally  one  loaded  thus  with  wood  loses  his  balance  or  trips  and 
goes  over;  then  he  can  not  rise  till  unloaded.  One  morning  I  noticed 
a  miserable  little  burro,  no  bigger  than  a  good-sized  ram,  staggering 
under  an  entire  bedstead,  piled  up  and  strapped  together  on  his  back ; 
and  another  with  an  immense  trunk  strapped  "cut-angular"  from  his 
left  hip  to  his  right  shoulder.  They  are  the  wealth  of  the  poorer 
class,  and  when  the  household  donkey  dies  a  Mexican  family  goes  into 
bankruptcy. 

With  these  notes,  set  down  in  a  month's  travel,  and  from  observa- 
tion and  conversation  with  all  classes,  I  resume  my  personal  experi- 
ences : 

On  the  26th,  we  left  Albuquerque,  just  as  the  Sunday  amusements 
began.  They  usually  have  splendid  religious  services  in  the  morning,  a 
dog-tussle  about  noon,  and  a  cock-fight  later  in  the  day.  Tn  the  evening, 
if  reflective,  the  "  Greaser  "  smokes  cigarettes  and  meditates ;  if  senti- 
mental, he  goes  courting.  My  soldier  was  sober  again,  by  chance,  and 
eager  to  start,  while  I  felt  refreshed  and  ready  for  the  desert. 

The  "June  rise"  of  the  Rio  Grande  (El  Rio  they  call  it  there — 
"The  River")  had  come  on  a  week  or  two  earlier  than  common,  and 
a  vast  bayou  covered  two-thirds  of  the  "  bottom "  between  the  city 
and  the  main  channel.  In  this  we  encountered  dangerous  whirls  and 
"chuck-holes,"  the  wagon  often  plunging  in  up  to  the  bed,  and  two 
or  three  times  the  little  lead  mules  were  obliged  to  swim  a  rod  or  so. 
When  we  reached  the  narrow  strip  of  high  ground  near  the  river,  the 
whole  population  of  the  string-town  opposite  were  collected  on  the 
bank,  on  their  way  to  the  cathedral  and  other  Sabbath  amusements. 
Half  a  dozen  families  were  laboring  across  in  their  own  skiffs,  while 
the  main  ferry  flat  was  loaded  to  the  guards.  The  women,  in  gay 
robes  and  black  rebosas,  were  laughing  and  singing,  while  the  men 
screamed,  swore  and  shouted  directions  all  at  once  to  the  four  boat- 
men, and  the  flat  drifted  in  circles  down  the  swift  current.  Fortu- 
nately, the  actual  channel  is  not  more  than  four  hundred  yards  wide, 
and  the  flat  only  descended  half  a  mile  in  making  the  passage.  A 
boat  load  of  Mexicans  on  the  way  to  church  can  make  more  noise 
than  two  circus  shows.  Having  passed  the  main  current,  the  ferry- 
men jumped  overboard,  and,  wading  up  to  their  armpits,  with  tow 
ropes,  hauled  the  flat  to  shore.  This  trifling  incident  is  a  beautiful 
illustration  of  the  Mexican  style  of  doing  every  thing. 

Once  landed,  the  male  passengers  took  to  the  bayou  without  a 
thought  for  their  summer  pantaloons;  but  the  women,  being  gayly 
dressed  for  church,  dropped  upon  the  grass,  snatched  off  their  under 


TOLTECCAN.  237 

clothing,  raised  their  dresses  "about  so  high,"  and  waded  to  town 
with  the  utmost  nonchalance,  laughing,  chattering,  and  singing  hymns 
to  the  Virgin!  Here  and  there  was  seen  a  youth  of  unusual  filial 
piety,  carrying  his  mother  astride  his  shoulders;  but  most  of  the 
women  encountered  *he  difficulties  of  the  way  with  a  hardihood  fully 
equal  to  that  of  the  men. 

Two  hours  of  Mexican  awkwardness  set  us  across,  and  we  left  the 
west  bank  for  the  sand  hills  just  as  the  great  bell  of  the  adobe  ca- 
thedral was  calling  these  copper-colored  Christians  to  morning  mass. 
The  western  hills  looked  bad  enough  from  the  town,  and  more  than 
kept  their  promise.  One  mile  across  the  valley  brought  us  to  the  first 
mesa,  not  more  than  fifty  feet  above  the  river,  and  covered  for  four  or 
five  miles  with  a  tolerable  growth  of  greasewood,  cactus  and  bunch- 
grass,  indicating  some  fertility.  Then  we  entered  upon  another  grad- 
ual ascent  for  two  miles,  which  brought  us  fairly  upon  the  desert. 
The  awful,  the  unutterable  desert !  Miles  on  miles  of  blistering  sand 
or  rock  glowing  in  the  midday  heat. 

At  2  P.  M.  we  halted  for  a  brief  rest,  ungeared  the  mules,  and 
crawled  under  the  wagon  for  shade.  North,  south  and  west  we  saw 
only  desolation;  eastward  a  faint  line  of  green  marked  the  course  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  Oh,  to  be  on  its  green  banks  once  more.  To  us  it 
appeared  "  more  to  be  desired  than  Abana  and  Pharpar,"  or  all  the 
rivers  of  Judea  and  Damascus.  The  water  in  our  canteens  was  ex- 
hausted before  noon,  and  the  soldier,  just  recovering  from  a  long 
debauch,  was  almost  frantic  with  thirst.  He  tried  the  usual  resource: 
to  scrape  a  bacon  rind  and  chew  it;  and  allow  me  to  add,  it  is  a 
splendid  substance  with  which  to  mitigate  thirst.  Soldiers  tell  me 
they  have  gone  two  days  without  water,  and  avoided  any  serious  suf- 
fering by  this  simple  expedient.  A  piece  of  silver,  or  small  splinter 
of  mountain  pine,  held  in  the  mouth  and  rolled  about  with  the 
tongue,  is  often  used  for  the  same  purpose. 

In  an  hour  the  evening  wind  rose,  and  we  moved  on.  At  5  P.  M., 
we  reached  a  down  grade,  and  saw  on  the  western  horizon  a  strag- 
gling line  of  dwarf  pines,  indicating  the  course  of  the  Puerco.  Our 
mules  showed  new  life,  gave  a  grateful  whinny,  and  broke  into  -a  trot. 
Fortunately  we  found  some  water  still  in  the  channel,  though  fast 
sinking.  Three  weeks  ago  the  Rio  Puerco  ("  Hog  River  ")  was  a  tor- 
rent; one  week  more,  and  it  will  be  a  resaca  ("dry  channel").  It 
runs  but  two  months  in  the  year ;  at  other  times,  travelers  must  hunt 
along  the  dry  bed  till  they  find  a  brackish  pool,  or  dig  in  the  lowest 
depressions.  The  water  looked  exactly  like  dirty  milk,  and  its  tern- 


238  WESTERN   WILDS. 

perature  was  about  70° ;  but  it  was  grateful  enough  to  us.  The  driver 
drank  two  quart  cups  of  it  in  ten  minutes,  and  the  poor  animals 
crowded  down  the  only  accessible  place,  and  shoved  each  other  into 
the  stream  in  their  eagerness  to  get  at  the  dirty  fluid.  Fortunately 
the  dirt  which  gives  it  color  is  so  fine  that  one  can  not  feel  it  grit  in 
his  teeth,  and  aside  from  the  earthy  taste,  the  water  is  not  disagree- 
able. 

The  valley  of  the  Puerco,  some  two  miles  wide,  is  very  fertile,  and 
the  Mexicans  had  attempted  to  settle  it;  but  no  plan  could  be  de- 
vised to  secure  enough  water  and  their  settlement  was  abandoned. 
We  spread  our  blankets  in  one  of  their  vacant  houses,  and  slept 
sweetly  till  2  A.  M.,  then  took  to  the  road  to  pass  the  next  desert 
before  noon.  All  that  was  yesterday  so  drear  has  a  fascinating  beauty 
by  moonlight.  The  turbid  Puerco  looks  like  a  band  of  molten  silver; 
the  sand  glitters  with  pearls,  the  red  and  yellow  rocks  are  glorified  in 
the  brilliant  light.  The  stream  had  fallen  two  feet  during  the  night, 
from  which  the  soldier  inferred  it  would  be  dry  in  a  day  or  two. 
Thence  we  rise  again  to  another  desert,  and  in  ten  miles  reach  the 
ancient  border  of  the  Navajoes  (or  Navahoes,  if  spelled  as  pro- 
nounced), a  series  of  rugged  gulches  and  narrow  cafions,  bounded  by 
perpendicular  walls  of  yellow  soapstone.  They  run  from  north  to 
south,  and  form  a  break  in  the  road  something  near  a  mile  wide, 
evidently  the  bed  of  a  long  extinct  river.  Wash  gravel  and  marine 
shells  are  heaped  in  fantastic,  piles  by  the  wind.  The  deepest  gulch 
is  known  as  Dead  Man's  Canon,  where  are  buried  twenty  whites  mas- 
sacred many  years  ago  by  the  Navajoes. 

We  saw  our  first  specimens  of  this  tribe  at  Albuquerque:  one  chief 
and  eleven  warriors,  who  had  been  into  the  Comanche  country  on  a 
fighting  and  stock-stealing  expedition.  They  got  no  horses,  but  had 
three  men  wounded,  and  were  making  their  way  homeward  with  only 
such  provisions  as  they  could  get  in  the  Mexican  settlements.  The 
sole  ranchero  at  the  cafion  told  us  they  had  passed  there  on  Sunday, 
having  made  the  forty-four  miles  on  foot  in  a  little  over  one  day. 
Our  early  start  avoided  the  midday  heat  upon  the  desert,  but  the  dry- 
ing air  produced  strange  effects.  My  nose,  lips,  and  wrists,  which 
blistered  yesterday,  peeled  to-day,  and  I  started  to  grow  a  new  cuticle 
on  those  members.  My  nose  was  coloring  like  a  new  meerschaum, 
forming  a  very  striking  feature  of  my  countenance.  How  convenient 
if  a  man  could  sprout  new  members  in  place  of  the  lost,  as  a  lobster 
does  his  claw,  or  a  bee  his  sting.  But  if  the  evolution  philosophy  be 
sound,  we  only  need  to  feel  the  want  of  such  a  faculty,  and  ardently 


TOLTECCAN.  239 

desire  it  for  several  hundred  generations,  and  it  will  spontaneously 
develop.     Beautiful  theory ! 

From  Dead  Man's  Cafion  we  rise  gradually  for  twelve  miles,  trav- 
erse a  wide  pass  walled  in  by  mountains  red  with  iron-stain,  and  de- 
scend again  to  a  vast  baked  plain  of  barren  clay,  hard  as  the  sun's 
rays  can  cook  it.  On  its  western  border  appears  a  green  oasis, 
bounded  by  yellow  hills  scantily  clad  with  timber  and  bunch-grass; 
and  on  the  baked  plain  beside  the  oasis  stands  the  hamlet  of  El  Rito 
("The  Little  River").  We  had  made  our  drive  of  twenty-six  miles 
by  noon.  The  "Little  River"  is  little  indeed;  at  its  best  one  can 
jump  across  it;  now  it  is  all  used  for  irrigation.  The  country  is  full 
of  dry  channels,  many  of  which  are  located  as  rivers  on  the  map;  but 
in  three-fourths  of  them  one  finds  only  piles  of  gravel  and  shifting 
sands. 

El  Rito  is  a  strange,  old,  isolated  Mexican  town,  away  out  on  the 
edge  of  the  desert,  twenty-five  miles  from  the  nearest  neighbor;  and 
yet  it  is  a  century  old,  and  has  doubtless  contained  the  same  fami- 
lies— perhaps  forty  in  all — during  all  that  time.  No  church,  no 
school,  no  papers,  no  books,  or  very  few,  to  introduce  a  new  idea; 
but  family  concerns,  town  concerns,  the  winter's  rain  and  the  spring 
rise ;  the  rare  passage  of  a  government  train,  and  the  rarer  visit  of 
the  itinerating  padre  to  baptize  the  children  and  confess  and  absolve 
the  elders,  make  up  their  little  world  of  incidents.  The  oasis  is 
plowed  with  a  sharpened  log,  well  seasoned  and  hewn  into  the  shape 
of  an  Irish  spade,  and  the  crops  tended  with  hoe  and  rake ;  while  the 
goats,  sheep  and  asses  are  pastured  in  the  mountain  hollows,  and  the 
hens  live  upon  crickets  and  earth-worms.  If  the  family  burro  does 
not  die,  if  the  goats  do  well,  if  the  water  is  sufficient  for  enough  of 
mais  and  chile  Colorado,  and  the  hens  lay  eggs  enough  to  send  off  by 
the  weekly  peddler,  and  procure  a  little  tobacco  and  flowered  calico, 
then  Quien  quiere  por  mas?  (Who  cares  for  more?)  In  this  little 
community  of  degenerate  Spaniards  A's  children  have  married  B's 
children,  and  vice  versa,  and  in  the  next  generation  double-cousins 
married  double-cousins,  for  a  hundred  years,  till  the  wine  of 
life  has  run  down  to  the  very  lees,  and  flows  dull  in  sluggish  veins 
for  want  of  a  vitalizing  current  of  alien  blood.  Every  person  in  the 
settlement  is  akin  to  most  of  the  others.  The  same  practice  has  had 
much  to  do  with  the  degeneracy  of  the  Pueblos,  isolated  as  each  of 
their  settlements  is. 

While  Hamilton  attended  to  his  team,  I  walked  about  the  town. 
The  men  and  larger  boys  were  at  work  in  the  public  field,  or  tend- 


240  WESTERN   WILDS. 

ing  flocks  among  the  hills ;  the  women  asleep,  or  sitting  on  the  dirt 
floor  smoking  cigarettes  of  corn-shuck  and  tobacco,  and  the  whole 
juvenile  population  looked  like  a  miserable  batch  of  rags,  sore  eyes 
and  sin.  There  was  not  a  tree,  a  flower,  or  a  spear  of  grass  in  the 
place.  Those  persons  I  spoke  to  were  even  too  lazy  to  understand 
Spanish — as  I  spoke  it,  anyhow.  They  only  grunted,  "  No  sabe,"  and, 
pointing  to  a  rather  superior  adobe  on  the  hill,  remarked,  ''Alii,  un 
Americano." 

I  found  him  an  "American"  indeed.  His  name  was  Ryan,  and  he 
was  "  from  Tipper-ra-r-ry,  be  dad ! "  Years  ago  he  drifted  here,  liked 
it,  married  a  Mexican  woman,  had  several  Pueblo  servants  and  a  flock 
of  sheep,  and  was  general  adviser,  advocate  and  scribe  for  the  settle- 
ment. A  delegation  of  Pueblos  from  the  next  town  were  at  his  house 
to  complain  of  the  Navajoes,  who  had  been  stealing  their  stock.  He 
took  me  to  the  public  fonda,  where  I  got  a  good  supper  of  goat's 
milk,  tortillas  and  eggs,  and  a  clean  room,  and  spent  the  evening  quite 
pleasantly.  The  nights  there  are  delightful ;  a  little  too  cool  towards 
morning,  perhaps,  for  comfortable  sleeping  in  the  open  air,  but  with 
abundant  blankets  we  did  well.  The  entire  mountain  range  southwest 
is  said  to  be  a  mass  of  minerals — coal,  iron  and  copper.  It  is  a  region 
of  curiosities.  In  the  next  valley  south  is  the  largest  one  of  the  aban- 
doned cities  of — whom?  Quien  sabe,  is  the  universal  answer  of  Mexi- 
can and  Indian.  Most  of  the  houses  there  are  of  sawed  stone.  Three 
miles  ahead,  and  on  our  road,  is  the  noted  Pueblo  de  Laguna  ("Town 
of  the  Lake"),  probably  the  best  built  of  all  the  Montezumas  towns, 
and  so  called  because  in  former  times  the  Pueblos  built  a  vast  cause- 
way across  the  upper  end  of  the  valley,  to  retain  the  winter  floods  from 
the  mountain  for  summer  irrigation.  Now  the  dam  is  broken  down, 
the  lake  is  dry,  the  cultivable  land  reduced  to  a  few  acres,  and  the 
pueblo  slowly  dying. 

Starting  next  morning  at  the  first  flush  of  daylight,  and  climbing  a 
rocky  trail  for  three  miles,  while  the  team  made  a  circuit  of  seven,  I 
gained  two  hours  for  a  visit  to  this  place.  The  sun  was  just  rising  as 
I  entered  the  pueblo,  and  the  inhabitants  were  mostly  on  the  house- 
tops preparing  their  implements  for  the  day's  work.  The  town  is 
situated,  upon  the  east  end  of  an  oval  rock  or  mole,  some  two  miles 
long,  and  rising  gradually  at  each  end  to  a  height  of  a  hundred  feet 
above  the  bordering  plain.  The  top  is  comparatively  level,  and  the 
sides  fall  off  in  a  succession  of  abrupt  benches,  each  a  yard  or  so  in 
width  and  height,  rendering  the  whole  place  a  splendid  natural  fortifi- 
cation. On  these  rocks  the  Pueblos  first  built  for  protection,  and  are 


TOLTECCAN.  241 

slow  to  change,  though  in  the  present  lengthy  peace  some  of  them  are 
beginning  to  build  out  on  the  farm.  The  cacique  was  a  man  of  con. 
siclerable  intelligence,  spoke  Spanish  fluently,  and  gave  me  informa- 
tion with  unusual  courtesy. 

Most  of  the  houses  have  a  second  story,  not  more  than  half  or  one- 
third  as  extensive  as  the  lower  one ;  and  some  few  have  a  sort  of  tower 
or  third  story  on  top  of  the  second.  To  this  I  several  times  signified 
a  desire  to  ascend,  but  the  cacique  either  did  not  understand  me,  or 
did  not  see  fit  to  comply — probably  the  latter.  Uneducated  and  semi- 
barbarous  people  are  generally  suspicious  on  all  matters  connected  with 
their  religion;  and  the  accounts  of  missionaries,  especially  their  first 
accounts,  among  such  people,  must  be  received  with  caution.  It  is 
nearly  or  quite  impossible  to  make  an  Indian  understand  why  any  one 
should  want  him  to  give  up  his  religion  and  adopt  that  of  another ;  he 
can  not  assign  any  probable  motive  for  such  solicitude,  and  invariably 
concludes  there  must  be  a  swindle  in  it  somewhere.  He  will  readily 
acknowledge  that  the  white  man's  religion  is  true  and  good — for  the 
white  man ;  and,  of  course,  the  Indian's  religion  is  equally  true  and 
good — for  the  Indian. 

When  the  Spanish  Jesuits  "converted"  these  people,  some  two  cent- 
uries ago,  they  found  it  impossible  to  eradicate  entirely  the  Montezu- 
mas  faith,  and  so  made  a  compromise.  They  gave  them  the  Catholic 
religion,  with  its  most  impressive  ceremonies,  and  permitted  them  to 
keep  all  their  Montezumas  customs  which  did  not  amount  to  actual 
idolatry.  These  consisted  mostly  of  dances  and  feasts  at  stated  times, 
which  had  more  of  a  national  than  a  religious  significance. 

The  houses  here  are  solidly  built  of  stone,  cement,  and  adobes.  The 
joists  are  large  as  ordinary  house-sills  in  the  States,  which  I  judged  to 
be  for  the  better  support  of  the  upper  stories,  as  I  noticed  the  walls  of 
these  in  some  instances  not  continuous  with  or  resting  on  the  walls 
below,  but  built  directly  across  and  over  the  rooms.  The  interior  of 
the  lower  rooms  was  whitewashed  and  pleasantly  neat,  but  in  and 
about  many  of  the  houses  was  an  unpleasant  odor  of  green  hides,  which 
were  hanging  near,  this  being  a  general  butchering  time  with  them. 
Their  windows  are  made  of  a  material  they  call  acquarra — a  kind  of 
mica  found  in  the  adjacent  mountains,  which  is  translucent  but  not 
transparent,  and  lights  a  room  about  as  well  as  oiled  paper.  All  the 
Pueblos  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  build  in  substantially  the  same 
manner;  and  all  accounts,  as  well  as  the  ruins  so  numerous  in  the 
country,  indicate  that  the  fashion  has  not  changed  for  many  centuries.. 
This  pueblo  has  a  population  of  seven  hundred,  who  cultivate  in  com- 
16 


242 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


mon  an  oasis  of  some  twelve  square  miles.  Closely  tended  it  produces 
amazingly.  Wooden  plows  were  running,  breaking  up  the  ground  for 
late  crops,  and  on  the  adjoining  hills  I  saw  large  herds  of  sheep  and 
goats  attended  by  young  Pueblos. 

Crossing  this  oasis  we  entered  another  broad  canon,  which  we  fol- 
lowed for  some  ten  miles  to  the  town  of  Cubero,  somewhat  better  than 
the  ordinary  Mexican  hamlet.  It  is  built  on  a  series  of  shelving 
rocks ;  some  of  the  dwellings  are  of  stone,  nearly  all  have  stone  floors, 
and  the  place  seemed  literally  basking  in  the  fierce  rays  of  a  New 
Mexican  sun.  There  we  found  another  party  of  Pueblos  on  a  general 
spree.  One  able-bodied  "buck"  was  staggering  along  the  street,  his 
wife  after  him  and  occasionally  thwacking  him  on  the  head  or  back 
with  the  butt  end  of  a  heavy  whip,  while  the  whole  Mexican  population 
looked  on  laughing  and  cheering. 

Thence  we  crossed  another  small  oasis,  traversed  another  rugged 
canon,  and  came  out  upon  another  small  green  tract,  and  to  McCarty's 
ranche,  where  we  spent  the  night.  McCarty  is  an  Irishman,  married 

to  a  Mexican  woman,  whom  I 
found  superior  to  most  of  her 
class.  Beyond  McCarty's  is  a 
fertile  valley,  through  which  runs 
the  line  of  the  Thirty-fifth  Par- 
allel Road  ;  and  beyond  that  a 
gorge,  not  more  than  two  hun- 
dred yards  wide,  opens  into  an- 
other valley.  The  last  three  miles 
of  the  former  valley  is  mostly 
marsh,  and  thither  the  officers 
from  Wingate  often  go  to  hunt 
ducks.  At  the  west  end  rise 
the  springs  which  water  the  val- 
ley. They,  boil  out  from  under  the  rock,  half  a  dozen  streams  of  cold, 
clear  water.  But  a  few  rods  from  them  the  lava  beds  begin.  As  I 
walked  over  the  pldin,  it  looked  as  if  the  lava  had  just  cooled.  I 
could  see  all  the  little  waves  and  ripples  in  its  surface,  and  near  the 
springs  it  had  evidently  overflowed  in  successive  layers,  each  an  inch  or 
so  thick,  the  lower  cooling  a  little  before  the  one  above  it  was  de- 
posited. In  places  these  layers  had  been  broken  directly  across, 
folded  and  contorted,  leaving  singular  gaps  and  fissures,  the  sides  of 
which  appeared  coated  in  places  with  lime  or  sulphur,  and  in  others 
by  what  looked  like  red  sealing-wax  turned  to  stone.  Where  con- 


"  WOMAN'S  RTGHTS." 


TO  LT EC  CAN.  243 

torted  or  twisted,  the  lava  rock  presented  precisely  the  same  appear- 
ance as  if  one  should  lay  down  successive  folds  of  tarred  canvas  till 
the  pile  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  thick,  and  then  roll  the  mass  over  and 
over  and  into  long  heaps.  Some  extensions  of  this  twisted  mass 
reached  even  to  the  edge  of  the  springs,  and  I  saw  indications  where 
it  had  overflowed  into  the  pools ;  but  most  of  the  way  across  the  valley 
one  could  trace  the  division  between  the  lava  and  the  original  rock 
base  on  to  which  it  had  flowed  as  easily  as  with  a  daub  of  mud  thrown 
upon  the  floor  of  a  house. 

By  a  rise  of  perhaps  ten  feet  we  entered  upon  this  mala  pqis,  and 
soon  came  to  where  the  lava  was  not  in  waves,  but  seemed  to  have 
cooled  in  a  mass,  presenting  a  granulated  appearance,  much  like  cool- 
ing sugar ;  and  a  little  farther  we  found  it  light  and  frothy  looking,  as 
if  a  hot,  foaming  current  had  cooled  to  stone,  porous  and  spongy,  like 
pumice-stone.  A  mile  westward  brought  us  out  into  the  broader  val- 
ley, and,  looking  backward,  it  seemecj  to  me  that  the  lava  flow  had 
been  choked  in  the  narrow  pass  about  the  time  the  supply  was  ex- 
hausted. Five  miles  over  the  level  land  brought  us  to  another  de- 
scent, leading  to  another  oval  plain ;  and,  running  in  a  ser- 
pentine course  across  it,  I  saw  a  shining  line  which  I  judged  to  be 
water — the  irregular  course  of  some  mountain  stream.  But  it  soon 
appeared  too  dazzlingly  bright,  and  we  found  it  only  a  narrow,  dry 
gully,  bottom  and  sides  crusted  with  salt  and  alkali,  painful  to  the 
eye.  A  little  water  runs  there  in  winter — just  enough  to  bring  down 
the  alkali  from  the  mountains. 

'From  the  plain  of  the  mala  pais  we  descend  a  little  into  Red  Val- 
ley, about  Agua  Azul.  It  is  walled  in  by  fearfully  abrupt  mountains 
of  black  and  red  stone  in  an  irregular  circle,  and  is  about  five  miles  by 
three,  containing  at  least  eight  sections  of  land  of  the  utmost  fertility. 
Near  the  bordering  mountains  the  soil  is  red,  giving  name  to  the  valley 
and  the  central  butte,  but  lower  down  it  is  dark.  Running  water  was 
found  only  at  the  south-west  corner  of  the  valley,  and  there  M. 
Provencher  first  began  to  cultivate  the  soil,  when  he  established  the 
ranche  four  years  before.  The  yield  from  this  soil  of  volcanic  origin 
was  astonishing;  wheat  produced  thirty-six  bushels  per  acre;  corn 
thirty-eight  fancgas  (a  fnnega  is  136  pounds),  and  oats  grew  to  the 
height  of  a  man's  head,  yielding  bounteously.  But  only  one  crop  was 
raised ;  then  the  dry  season,  which  lasted  for  three  years  in  western 
New  Mexico,  set  in ;  the  water  failed,  and  it  is  a  question  whether  the 
place  can  ever  be  utilized.  Give  but  a  stream  of  pure  water,  and  this 


244  WESTERN    WILDS. 

little  basin  would  bloom  like  a  garden,  supporting  a  thousand  people 
in  affluence. 

About  3  o'clock  next  morning  we  were  awakened  by  a  terrible 
racket  and  barking  of  dogs,  just  in  time  to  see  that  our  mules  had 
broken  corral,  and  were  lighting  out  towards  Wingate  with  a  speed 
which  showed  there  was  no  place  like  home  to  them.  The  soldier 
went  in  pursuit,  and  I  visited  the  Red  Butte  and  the  old  crater.  The 
butte  is  nearly  two  miles  long  and  a  mile  wide,  rising  evenly  from  the 
plain  on  every  side,  and  so  abruptly,  by  a  series  of  "benches"  or  nar- 
row terraces,  that  it  can  only  be  ascended  in  two  or  three  places,  and 
the  dimensions  on  top  are  only  one-fourth  less  than  at  the  bottom. 
M.  Provencher's  theory  is  that  the  entire  valley  was  the  original 
crater,  and,  when  it  had  slowly  died  out,  a  smaller  one  formed  at  the 
center.  The  butte  appears  from  the  plain  to  be  level  on  top ;  it  is,  in 
fact,  a  mere  shell — a  little  copy  of  the  walled  basin  around  it.  From 
the  narrow  rim  there  is  an  abrupt  fall  towards  the  center,  and  inside 
it  has  the  appearance  of  an  old  furnace,  long  since  burnt  out  and 
abandoned. 

At  midnight  the  soldier  returned,  hitched  up  at  daylight,  and,  in  a 
steaming  state  of  military  wrath,  whipped  his  mules  through  the  forty- 
three  miles  to  Wingate  by  sundown.  Twenty  miles  east  of  that  post 
we  passed  the  dividing  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  (or  Sierra 
Madre ;  both  names  are  used  indifferently  there).  We  reach  the  west- 
ern slope  through  a  long  pass,  in  many  respects  resembling  the  South 
Pass  of  the  old  California  trail.  It  is  simply  a  high  and  sandy  valley 
through  the  mountains,  bounded  on  the  north  by  almost  perpendicular 
sandstone  cliffs  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  on 
the  south  by  scantily-timbered  hills  which  rise  one  above  another  to 
the  highest  mountain  peak.  In  the  pass  and  neighboring  hills  rain  is 
frequent;  twenty  miles  east  or  west  of  it  none  falls  for  three  or  four 
months  at  a  time.  The  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Railroad  line  is  located 
through  this  pass,  and  the  grade  is  so  gentle  that  no  difficulties  are  met 
writh.  For  three  hundred  miles  west  of  the  Rio  Grande  nature  seems 
to  have  provided  a  series  of  valleys  especially  for  a  railroad.  The 
real  trouble  is  that  the  country  has  so  little  in  it  worth  building  a 
railroad  for.  It  is  a  splendid  country  to  travel  through  ;  a  miserably 
poor  one  to  stop  in  to  make  a  "  stake." 

On  the  evening  of  May  31st  \ve  drove  into  "VVingatc ;  my  soldier 
"  reported,"  and  in  precisely  twenty  minutes  was  a  close  prisoner  in 
the  guard-house — "  held  for  trial." 

"  Charge — Unwarranted  disposition  of  stores  placed  in  his  care." 


TOLTECCAN.  245 

"  Specification — In  this,  that  the  said  Frank  Hamilton,  being  intrusted 
with  a  team  to  transport  one  thousand  pounds  of  potatoes  from  Santa 
Fe  to  this  post,  did  unwarrantably  dispose  of  three  hundred  pounds  of 
the  same  on  the  way,  etc.,  etc." 

He  was  found  guilty  of  this,  and  more ;  and  during  my  stay  I  was 
daily  pained  at  sight  of  him  "  cleaning  quarters,"  with  a  most  uncom- 
fortable bracelet  attachment  to  his  ankle. 

Take  him  for  all  in  all,  he  was  the  most  unfortunate  traveling  com- 
panion I  ever  had. 

Moral — Don't  go  for  a  regular  soldier ;  or,  if  you  do,  don't  trade 
government  potatoes  to  Mexican  women. 

Eight  days  I  remained  at  Fort  Wingate,  and  enjoyed  every  moment 
of  the  time.  Having  letters  to  Lieutenant  S.  W.  Fountain,  formerly 
of  Pomeroy,  Ohio,  he  made  me  comfortable  at  his  quarters,  and  a  full 
hand  at  his  mess.  Captain  A.  B.  Kauffman,  commanding  the  post  in 
the  absence  of  Colonel  Wm.  Redwood  Price ;  Lieutenant  D.  R.  Burn- 
ham,  of  Company  "H,"  Fifteenth  United  States  Infantry;  and  Dr.  R. 
S.  Vickery,  Post  Surgeon,  were  most  courteous  and  pleasant  officials.  If 
I  had  to  be  exiled  to  a  Far  Western  fort,  I  don't  know  any  other  com- 
mand I  should  prefer  to  go  with.  Lieutenant  H.  R.  Brinkerhoff, 
formerly  of  Union  County,  Ohio,  also  assisted  me  to  much  information 
as  to  the  surrounding  country  ;  and  he  and  his  estimable  lady  made  my 
stay  more  like  a  renewal  of  home- life  than  one  would  have  thought 
possible  in  this  wilderness. 

Fort  Wingate  is  nearly  two  hundred  miles  west  of  Santa  Fe,  di- 
rectly at  the  head  of  the  Rio  Puerco  of  the  West.  Along  this  stream 
a  sloping  valley  can  be  followed  down  to  the  Colorado  Chiquito 
("  Little,'')  and  down  that  to  the  main  Colorado — this  post  being  thus 
on  the  "  Pacific  slope."  Just  south  of  the  fort  rises  a  rugged  spur  of 
the  Sierra  Madre,  from  which  Bear  Spring  (or  Ojo  del  Oso)  sends  out 
a  cold,  clear  stream,  sufficient  to  turn  a  mill-wheel.  Two  miles  below 
the  channel  is  dry;  the  loose  red  earth  has  drunk  it  all.  With  this 
stream  the  soldiers  irrigrate  a  few  acres  of  garden,  producing  most  of 
the  vegetables  except  potatoes.  These  can  not  be  grown  in  the  greater 
part  of  New  Mexico ;  the  vines  grow  night  and  day,  and  the  result  is, 
in  each  hill  a  handful  of  dwarfed  tubers,  about  the  size  of  chestnuts. 
The  latitude  of  Wingate  is  35°  28';  the  elevation  6,600  feet.  Hence 
the  summers  are  short  and  the  nights  cool.  Corn  will  not  silk ;  wheat 
is  generally  cut  off  in  the  flower.  Only  the  short-lived  plants  come  to 
perfection.  The  records  show  that  drought  has  been  increasing  for 


246  WESTERN  WILDS. 

forty  years.  During  my  stay  they  enjoyed  the  only  heavy  rain  for 
three  years. 

Gypsum,  salt  and  iron  are  abundant.  A  short  distance  west  of  the 
fort  is  a  whole  mountain  of  gypsum,  so  to  speak — enough  to  bury  an 
eastern  county.  Neither  gold  nor  silver  has  been  found  in  paying 
quantities.  Precious  stones  of  various  kinds  have  been  found  near, 
particularly  garnets  and  turquoises.  Lieutenant  H.  R.  Brinkerhoff 
has  a  large  collection  of  curious  stones,  picked  up  within  a  mile  or 
two  of  the  fort.  Magnetic  stones,  the  size  of  one's  fist,  can  be  had  by 
the  bushel.  Some  of  them,  when  thrown  loosely  upon  the  ground, 
will  roll  over  towards  each  other  till  they  gather  in  a  group.  All  the 
hills  are  covered  with  timber,  and  in  the  larger  canons  is  abundance 
of  pine  fit  for  lumber.  The  mountains  north  and  east  present  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  succession  of  lofty  cones,  Avith  here  and  there  an  oval 
hill.  In  many  adjacent  valleys  are  ruins  of  towns,  and  acecquias, 
where  no  water  now  runs  at  any  season.  Thirty  miles  south-west  is 
a  valley  strewn  with  ruins,  indicating  a  large  settlement;  it  is  now  a 
desert. 

Wingate  is  the  center  of  a  region  of  curiosities.  Among  our  visit- 
ors were  some  Zuni  Indians  from  the  great  pueblo  forty  miles  west. 
This  is  an  enormous  building  of  five  terraced  stories,  containing  eight 
hundred  semi-civilized  Indians.  In  this  great  human  hive  are  carried 
on  all  the  complicated  affairs  of  a  community  life :  government,  manu- 
factures, art,  and  religious  rites.  They  cultivate  their  little  patches 
with  great  skill,  producing  abundance  of  corn,  wheat,  beans,  and 
melons;  their  mercantile  wealth  is  in  sheep,  goats,  blankets,  beads,  and 
pottery.  They  are  severely  chaste,  any  departure  from  virtue  being 
rigidly  punished.  They  once  had  the  art  of  writing,  and  still  preserve 
one  book ;  but  the  last  man  who  could  read  it  died  many  years  ago, 
and  the  priests  regard  it  merely  as  a  holy  relic.  It  consists  simply  of 
a  mass  of  finely  dressed  skins,  bound  on  one  side  with  thongs;  the 
leaves  are  thickly  covered  with  characters  and  drawings  in  red,  blue, 
and  green — squares,  diamonds,  circles,  serpents,  eagles,  plants,  flying 
monsters  and  hideous  human  heads.  One  of  their  caciques  says  it  is 
the  history  of  their  race,  and  shows  that  they  have  moved  fourteen 
times,  this  being  their  fifteenth  place  of  settlement.  No  Spanish  priest 
has  ever  been  permitted  to  enter  their  town ;  their  religion  appears  to 
be  a  mixture  of  Spiritism  and  Sabianism. 

They  are  quite  domestic  in  their  tastes,  and  fond  of  pets.  Turkeys 
and  tame  eagles  abound  among  them,  living  about  the  terraces  of  the 
pueblo,  and  even  in  their  dwellings.  They  are  keen  traders,  and  have 


TOLTECCAN.  247 

most  perfect  command  of  their  features.  The  few  I  saw  had  a  uni- 
formly sad,  mild  expression  of  the  eye,  but  were  quick  in  motion, 
well-made,  and  rather  graceful.  Unfortunately  I  was  compelled,  for 
company's  sake,  to  take  a  route  north  of  Zuni;  and  did  not  know  its 
value  to  the  explorer  till  I  had  passed  westward. 

A  hundred  miles  north  of  Wingate  are  the  great  ruins  on  the  De 
Chaco  River,  supposed  to  be  those  of  the  "Seven  Cities  of  Cibola" 
(See-vo-la) ;  and  north  of  those,  on  the  San  Juan  in  Colorado,  the 
ruins,  as  supposed,  of  a  fortified  city  of  the  Aztecs.  One  of  the  walls 
still  stands,  five  hundred  feet  in  length,  with  joinings  as  true  and 
smooth  as  in  any  of  our  buildings.  They  were  constructed  of  hard 
sandstone,  and  probably  enclosed  a  city  of  several  thousand  inhabit- 
ants. Lieutenant  McCormick,  who  explored  all  of  them,  thinks  that 
at  least  a  quarter,  possibly  half,  of  a  million  people  devoted  to  agri- 
culture, once  occupied. the  system  of  valleys  opening  upon  the  San 
Juan.  They  are  gone  long  ago,  and  their  places  are  occupied  by  the 
nomadic  races:  Utes,  Navajoes  and  Apaches.  The  streams  upon 
which  they  depended  dried  up,  and  cultivators  necessarily  yielded  to 
hunters  and  shepherds;  just  as  we  find  wandering  Arabs  encamped  in 
the  ruins  of  Baalbec  and  Palmyra,  or  barbarous  nomads  wandering 
over  the  once  populous  and  fertile  Babylonia. 

Here,  too,  we  find  the  Navajoes  at  home;  a  most  interesting  race  of 
barbarians,  friendly  in  peace  but  savage  in  war.  These  are  the  first 
Indians  I  have  met  who  have  not  the  stereotyped  "Indian  face" — the 
face  we  have  heard  described  so  often,  either  overcast  with  a  stern  and 
melancholy  gravity,  or  lively  only  with  an  uncertain  mixture  of 
cunning  and  ferocity.  Their  countenances  are  generally  pleasing,  even 
mild  and  benevolent.  They  have  many  young  fellows  whose  faces 
show  the  born  humorist.  Wit,  merriment,  and  practical  jokes  enliven 
all  their  gatherings,  and,  quite  contrary  to  our  ideas  of  Indian  char- 
acter, they  laugh  loud  and  heartily  at  every  thing  amusing.  They  are 
quite  inquisitive,  too,  and  seem  vastly  pleased  to  either  see  or  hear 
something  new.  Both  men  and  women  work,  and  are  quite  industri- 
ous until  they  have  accumulated  a  fair  share  of  property ;  then  they 
seem  content  to  take  things  easy.  But  here,  as  elsewhere,  only  the 
worst  class  of  Indians  spend  their  time  about  the  fort.  Their  women 
come  and  go  in  frequent  groups,  and  may  be  found  almost  any  pay- 
day in  the  adjacent  woods;  the  result  being  that  Dr.  Vickery  has  a 
very  extensive  practice  among  the  private  soldiers. 

On  the  6th  of  June,  I  set  out  for  Fort  Defiance,  in  company  with 
Wm.  Burgess,  blacksmith  for  the  Navajo  Agency.  The  distance  is 


248  WESTERN   WILDS. 

forty-five  miles,  which  we  traversed  in  nine  hours,  finding  water  at 
but  one  point  on  the  road,  namely,  Stinking  Springs,  sometimes  po- 
litely called  Sheep  Springs.  Our  mules  drank  of  it,  under  protest, 
and  with  many  sniffs  and  contortions  of  the  lips;  and  I  tasted  it  from 
curiosity.  It  looks  like  a  solution  of  blue-dye,  and  tastes  like  white- 
oak  bark.  To  some  it  is  a  dangerous  cathartic,  but  to  most  a  power- 
ful astringent.  Four  miles  from  Wingate  the  valley  makes  a  great  U 
to  the  northward,  and  our  road  runs  over  the  foot-hills  for  three 
miles;  then  enters  the  valley  again,  which  there  narrows  to  a  mere 
pass.  A  vast  dyke  of  hard  trap-rock  extends  across  the  country  from 
north  to  south,  standing  out  above  the  sandstone  like  an  artificial 
stone  battlement,  and  runs  out  from  each  side  of  the  valley  in  abrupt 
causeways,  leaving  a  rugged  gap  only  a  hundred  yards  wide.  This 
opens  into  a  broad  and  fertile  valley,  across  which  three  miles  bring 
us  to  the  Rio  Puerco  of  the  West.  The  Puerco  I  crossed  on  the  26th 
of  May  runs  south-east  into  the  Rio  Grande  ;  this  one  south-west  into 
the  Colorado  Chiquito.  We  cross  this  Puerco,  rise  again  into  the 
northern  foot-hills,  and  stop  for  noon  in  a  pinon  thicket.  Next  we 
reach  the  "Hay  Stacks,"  a  series  of  cones  of  yellow  sandstone,  some- 
thing over  a  hundred  feet  high,  and  fifty  feet  wide  at  the  base,  running 
up  to  a  sharp  point.  They  stand  upon  an  almost  level  plain,  but  half 
a  mile  away  is  a  rocky  ledge  containing  a  vast  natural  bridge,  arched 
gateway,  and  all  the  forms  of  rocky  tower  and  battlement  which  can 
be  imagined.  Eight  miles  farther  brought  us  to  Defiance,  situated  at 
the  foot  of  a  low  rocky  range,  and  almost  in  the  mouth  of  Canon 
Benito. 

Approaching  the  post  across  a  sandy  plain  we  first  come  to  a  dry 
river-bed,  with  enough  of  stunted  grass  to  show  that  water  still  runs 
there  sometimes.  Following  up  the  stream  we  find  first  a  pool  of 
water,  then  a  flock  of  sheep,  then  Indian  farms,  and  occasionally  a 
hogan,  from  which  the  Navajo  squaws  and  children  peep  out  at  us 
with  a  sort  of  hungry  curiosity.  We  cross  a  common  field  of  a  hun- 
dred acres  or  so,  which  the  Xavajoes  have  thrown  up  into  beds  two 
or  three  rods  square  for  irrigation,  and  ride  into  the  fort,  which  was 
my  headquarters  for  the  next  ten  days. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


WILP   LIFE   IN   ARIZONA. 

IT  is  bright  noon  in  the  gorge  of  Cailon  Benito.  The  red  cliffs 
glow  in  the  hot  sunshine,  and  the  dark  pool  below,  the  only  body  of 
water  in  an  area  of  hundreds  of  miles,  is  now  simmering  warm.  At 
midnight  it  will  be  cold  as  ice-water.  The  Navajo  boys  are  plunging 
and  splashing  in  the  tepid  bath,  their  handsome  dark  bodies  shining 
through  the  clear  fluid  like  bronze  statues  vivants.  Around  each 
boy's  waist  is  the  tight  "  geestring,"  from  which  a  single  strip  of  cloth 
runs  between  the  limbs  from 
front  to  back — these  two  ar- 
ticles never  being  removed 
from  the  person  in  the  pres- 
ence of  another.  Down  the 
steep  trail  from  the  south 
comes  a  band  to  the  "  count 
and  distribution,"  which  is 
expected  in  a  few  days. 
The  speckled  ponies  cau- 
tiously tread  the  perilous 
way,  bearing  the  pappooses 
and  household  goods;  the 
men  stalk  in  front,  carrying 
their  weapons  and  articles 
for  barter;  behind  come  the 
squaws,  less  heavily  laden 
than  is  usual  among  the  In- 
dians, and  consequently  far 
more  shapely  and  graceful. 
An  occasional  yelp  indicates  that  some  hapless  cur,  of  the  little  black, 
fiery-eyed  and  fierce  species  kept  by  the  Navajoes.  has  got  under  the 
sharp  hoof  of  a  broncho;  then  a  loud  chorus  of  not  unmusical  cries 
shows  that  the  band  have  recognized  their  friends  coming  from  an 
opposite  direction,  and  soon  they  unite  in  the  quadrangle  inclosed  by 
the  Agency  buildings. 

(249) 


COMING  TO  THE  "  COUNT." 


250  WESTERN  WILDS. 

There  the  scene  is  gay.  The  girls  have  on  their  brightest  blankets ; 
each  neck  is  encircled  by  numerous  strands  of  beads,  the  number 
indicating  the  wearer's  wealth ;  the  men  are  fancifully  touched  up  with 
red  and  white  paint,  while  even  the  withered  old  squaws  have  tricked 
out  their  worn  bodies  and  weather-beaten  visages  in  some  remnants  of 
faded  finery.  Groups  are  seen  here  and  there  gambling  with  Spanish 
cards;  others  are  playing  a  peculiar  aboriginal  game  like  pitch  and 
toss,  while  even  the  boys  are  shooting  at  a  mark  for  wagers  of  loot- 
chsin.  The  men  are  tall  and  vigorous;  the  women  finer  looking  than 
those  of  any  other  tribe,  the  younger  ones  often  very  handsome.  Gar- 
nets, quartz  crystals,  flakes  of  mica,  chips  of  aqua-marine,  and  a  dozen 
kinds  of  glittering  stones  are  displayed  in  quantities,  and  often  worn 
as  ornaments.  Occasionally  a  slab  of  malachite  is  seen,  and  more 
rarely  a  turquoise ;  for  the  whole  region  abounds  in  curious  stones  and 
petrifactions,  with  more  fossils  than  Agassiz  could  classify  in  a  month. 
All  the  hillocks  made  by  the  desert  ants  are  found  to  be  dotted  with 
garnets,  which,  both  plainsmen  and  Indians  say,  the  insects  have  gath- 
ered from  the  adjacent  plain  and  piled  there — evidently  attracted  by 
their  brightness,  whether  from  a  sense  of  beauty  or  otherwise. 

Three  hours  before  one  would  not  have  known  there  was  an  Indian 
in  the  vicinity ;  now  the  square  is  full,  and  others  are  still  pouring 
in.  But  all  are  doomed  to  disappointment.  Congress  has  been  too 
busy  President-making  to  pass  the  appropriation  bills,  and  the  agent 
sadly  says :  "  No  provisions  yet."  It  is  a  time  of  scarcity  with  them 
too.  The  annuity  for  the  previous  year  has  long  been  exhausted ; 
their  crops  for  1870  were  very  poor;  in  1871  there  was  a  total  fail- 
ure. Their  miserable,  dry,  burnt-out  and  barren  country  is  yearly 
growing  dryer  and  more  barren;  the  bunch  grass  is  abundant,  as  it 
grows  without  summer  rains,  but  they  have  not  had  time  to  recruit 
their  flocks  since  the  devastating  Navajo  war,  and  starvation  threatens 
half  the  tribe.  The  last  grain  in  the  agency  store-house  was  issued 
on  the  14th  of  June;  the  Indians  have  eaten  all  their  oldest  sheep  and 
goats,  saving  the  young,  especially  the  ewes,  to  the  last,  and  when  I 
visit  their  hogans  I  sometimes  see  them  gnawing  away  at  what  look 
suspiciously  like  equine  shanks.  The  Agency  employes  have  not  been 
paid  for  a  year,  and  have  to  buy  their  own  provisions  from  the  nearest 
Mexican  settlements.  Still  the  Navajoes  are  cheerful  and  lively,  in 
their  worst  troubles  still  looking  for  better  times ;  and  I  spend  many 
days  of  enjoyment  rambling  among  them. 

My  first  task  is  to  learn  enough  of  the  language  for  the  usages  of 
common  life ;  and  a  severe  task  it  is.  I  begin  with  ah-tee-chee  ("  what 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  251 

is  it?")  and  proceed  to  the  words  for  bread  or  meat,  fire  and  water,  viz: 
chinneahgo,  knuh  and  toh.  The  language  is  extremely  nasal,  equally 
guttural,  and  abounds  in  sibilants  and  triple  consonants,  many  sounds 
having  no  equivalent  in  English.  In  every  band  are  some  Mexicans, 
captured  young  and  adopted  by  the  tribe ;  and  a  few  Spanish  words 
are  in  common  use,  but  so  changed  in  the  pronunciation  as  to  make 
them  new.  Thus  Americano  becomes  Melicano;  azucar,  ("  sugar ")  tsu- 
collo;  scrape,  ("blanket")  selap,  and  ombre  ("man")  ombly ;  for  no 
Indian  or  Chinaman  can  pronounce  the  r.  Their  social  customs  and 
adornments  have  a  singular  resemblance  to  those  of  the .  Japanese. 
They  treat  their  women  as  well  as  most  white  nations.  Men  do  the 
out-door  work,  women  that  of  the  household.  The  latter  are  very 
communicative,  humorous  and  mirthful,  and  nothing  seems  to  amuse 
them  so  much  as  my  attempts  at  their  language,  at  which  they  listen 
and  laugh  by  the  hour.  'They  say  that  a  woman  first  taught  them  how 
to  weave  blankets  and  make  water-jars,  for  which  cause  it  is  a  point 
of  honor  with  a  Navajo  never  to  strike  a  woman. 

In  my  visits  I  frequently  heard  them  speak  of  En-now-lo-kyh,  some- 
times joined  with  the  word  el-soo-see,  and  as  I  stooped  to  enter  a 
hogan,  could  sometimes  hear  the  head  of  the  family  call  to  order  with 
"  Hah-koh  !  El-soo-see  En-noic-lo-kyh  !  "  Learning  that  this  was  my 
Navajo  name,  I  sought  the  interpreter,  highly  flattered  at  my  noble  title, 
to  learn  its  meaning.  A  broad  grin  adorned  his  features  as  he  informed 
me  that  the  two  words,  translated  literally,  meant  "  Slim-man-with-a- 
white-eye."  Feeling  this  to  be  somewhat  personal,  and  inferentially 
abusive,  I  had  him  explain  somewhat  of  my  business  to  them  and 
construct  a  name  indicative  of  my  profession ;  and  henceforth  I  hope 
to  become  historical  among  the  Navajoes  by  an  unpronounceable  word 
of  six  syllables,  meaning  in  English  "  Big  Quill."  When  a  commu- 
nication is  twice  translated,  it  triples  the  ambiguity;  and  that  is  the 
method  employed  with  them:  one  interpreter  speaks  English  and 
Spanish,  the  other  Spanish  and  Navajo.  I  made  my  remarks  in  the 
plainest,  most  terse  English  I  could  command,  which  the  American 
translated  into  the  florid  Castilian ;  this,  in  turn,  the  Mexican  rendered 
in  the  hissing,  complicated  phrases  and  cumbrous  polysyllables  of  the 
aboriginal  tongue. 

It  was  but  seventy  miles  to  the  ruins  on  the  De  Chaco,  and  I  had 
arranged  to  visit  them  with  Navajo  guides,  when  one  of  the  party 
which  had  gone  to  San  Juan  arrived,  completely'  exhausted,  and 
announced  that  Agent  Miller  had  been  murdered,  and  all  their  horses 
stolen  but  one ;  that  he  had  started  immediately  with  that,  and  the  rest 


252  WESTERN  WILDS. 

of  the  party  were  coming  afoot.  Next  day  the  others  arrived,  quite 
worn  out,  having  walked  a  hundred  miles  in  three  days,  carrying 
their  baggage.  Their  account  is  as  follows :  The  party  consisting  of 
Agent  Miller,  B.  M.  Thomas,  (Agency  Farmer,)  John  Ayers  and  the 
Interpreter,  Jesus  Alviso,  left  Defiance  on  the  4th  of  June,  to  inspect 
the  San  Juan  Valley,  with  a  view  of  locating  the  Navajo  Agency 
there.  The  examination  was  satisfactory,  as  they  found  one  fertile  and 
beautiful  valley  near  the  river,  capable  of  being  irrigated  by  a  single 
acecquia,  and  sufficient  to  support  the  whole  tribe.  At  the  same  time, 
three  others  left  the  settlements  on  a  prospecting  tour,  reached  San 
Juan  one  day  after  the  Agent's  party,  and  were  camped  twelve  miles 
from  them  on  the  bluff.  Neither  party  dreamed  of  danger  from  the 
Utes,  as  that  tribe  had  been  at  peace  many  years ;  and,  though  they 
annoyed  the  Navajoes  greatly,  had  not  molested  white  men.  On  the 
morning  of  the  llth,  just  at  dawn,  Miller's  companions  were  awakened 
by  the  report  of  a  gun  and  whistling  of  an  arrow,  both  evidently 
fired  within  a  few  rods  of  them.  They  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  saw 
two  Utes  run  into  the  brush ;  ten  minutes  after  they  saw  them  emerge 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  thicket,  and  ride  up  the  bluff,  driving 
the  company's  horses  before  them.  They  did  not  know,  at  first  sight, 
that  the  Utes  were  hostile,  or  that  they  had  fired  at  them.  John 
Ayers  spoke  to  Miller,  who  did  not  reply;  he  then  shoved  him  with 
his  foot,  still  he  did  not  wake.  They  pulled  off  his  blanket,  and 
found  him  dead.  The  Ute's  bullet  had  entered  the  top  of  his  head 
and  passed  down  behind  his  right  eye,  without  disarranging  his  cloth- 
ing in  the  slightest.  His  feet  were  crossed,  and  hands  folded  exactly 
as  when  he  went  to  sleep ;  his  eyes  were  closed,  his  lips  slightly  parted 
into  a  faint  smile,  as  if  from  a  pleasant  dream — all  showed  beyond 
doubt  that  he  had  passed  from  sleep  to  death  without  a  struggle  or  a 
sigh.  Thus  died  James  H.  Miller,  a  true  Christian,  a  faithful  official 
and  brave  man. 

Congress  did  not  adjourn  without  passing  the  Indian  Appropriation 
Bill,  and  soon  came  the  welcome  news  that  the  agent  at  Santa  Fe  had 
started  several  thousand  bushels  of  grain  for  Defiance.  Again  the  em- 
ployed took  heart;  there  was  joy  in  the  hogans.  Mr.  Thomas  V. 
Reams,  Agency  Clerk,  was  acting  in  place  of  Miller,  deceased,  and  I 
gladly  acknowledge  the  many  courtesies  I  received  at  his  hands.  In- 
deed, all  the  employes,  like  people  generally  in  these  out-of-the-way 
places,  vied  with  each  other  in  making  my  stay  pleasant.  I  recall  par- 
ticularly Dr.  J.  Menaul  and  lady,  preacher  and  teacher  for  the  Agency ; 
Lionel  Ayers,  post-trader;  J.  Dunn,  wagon-master;  A.  C.  Damon, 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  253 

butcher,  and  Andy  Crothers,  in  charge  of  grain-room.  Altogether, 
the  whites  at  the  .post  numbered  sixteen  men  and  four  women — a  little 
colony  far  beyond  the  border  of  civilization,  and  the  last  whites  I  was 
to  see  for  some  hundreds  of  miles. 

The  situation  is  pleasant  and  romantic.  The  Benito  Hills,  averaging 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  plain,  run  directly  north  and  south.  On 
the  west  side  of  them  is  a  vast  inclosed  basin,  from  which  Cafion 
Benito  breaks  directly  through  the  hills — a  sharp,  abrupt  gorge,  square 
across  the  formation,  with  perpendicular  walls  entirely  inaccessible. 
The  east  end  of  the  caflon  broadens  into  a  little  valley,  at  the  mouth 
of  which,  though  out  on  the  plain,  the  fort  is  situated.  A  river  once 
ran  through  the  gorge,  of  which  the  successive  periods  can  be  traced 
on  the  sandstone  walls  to  a  height  of  two  hundred  feet.  There  seems 
to  have  been  the  original  bottom  of  the  canon,  whence  the  river  stead- 
ily cut  deeper  until  it  had  completely  drained  the  basin  above.  The 
river  had  long  been  dry  when  the  fort  was  located,  but  several  springs 
in  the  east  end  of  the  canon  created  a  stream  sufficient  to  irrigate  a 
section  of  the  land  on  the  plain.  Here  the  Navajoes  had  raised  corn 
and  melons  from  time  immemorial ;  they  had  no  other  vegetables  when 
found  by  the  whites.  The  present  occupants  of  Defiance  have  thrown 
a  dam  across  this  end  of  the  cafion,  producing  a  beautiful  artificial  lake 
some  three  hundred  yards  long,  and  rising  so  high  as  to  leave  barely 
room  for  a  wagon-road.  The  lake  is  strongly  alkaline,  but  a  few  rods 
below  is  a  spring  of  the  nicest  and  purest  water  to  be  found  in  these 
mountains.  It  is  the  one  important  treasure  of  this  post,  which,  with- 
out it,  would  be  almost  uninhabitable.  In  the  States,  towns  are  lo- 
cated according  to  convenience  for  trade ;  in  the  mountains,  settlement 
is  determined  by  the  presence  of  never-failing  water. 

I  had  exhausted  the  sights  near  Defiance,  and  was  eager  to  be  off. 
Mr.  Reams  called  in  Juerro,  the  old  war-chief  of  the  Navajoes,  and 
together  they  selected  an  intelligent  young  man  to  be  my  guide  to 
Moqui.  The  Navajoes  were  scattering  out  on  their  summer  hunt  and 
trading  trips,  and  we  were  likely  soon  to  have  abundant  company. 
My  new  guide  took  a  stout  burro  for  the  trip,  while  I  rode  a  good- 
sized  American  horse.  I  was  to  provision  myself  and  one  man  to  the 
Mormon  settlements,  and  one  man  back,  besides  his  fee.  Thus  ran 
the  bill :  Thirty  pounds  of  flour,  ten  pounds  of  bacon,  ten  pounds  of 
sugar,  five  pounds  of  coffee,  and  six  boxes  of  sardines,  the  whole  cost- 
ing but  twenty  dollars.  The  same  sum  to  my  guides,  and  five  dollars 
for  the  hire  of  a  burro,  made  the  total  expense,  for  a  trip  of  nearly  five 
hundred  miles,  forty-five  dollars — not  much  more  than  railroad  fare. 


254  WESTERN  WILDS. 

My  horse,  bridle,  saddle,  lariat,  gun  (a  Spencer),  and  two  Navajo 
blankets  cost  me  two  hundred  dollars.  My  Navajo  knew  a  few  words 
of  Spanish,  perhaps  fifty  in  all  -about  equal  to  my  list  in  his  language; 
but,  unfortunately  for  general  conversation,  our  words  covered  about 
the  same  objects.  Such  words  as  the  following  were  in  constant  use: 

Tohh  .        .  .  Water. 

Klohh  .  .  Grass. 

Chizz  .        .  ,  Wood. 

Knuhh  .        .  .  Fire. 

Klee  .        .  .  Horse. 

Klitt  .        .  .  Smoke. 

Hahkohh.  .  .  Come. 

Tennehh  .        .  .  Man. 

I  represent  the  sharp  accent  at  the  end  of  some  words  by  doubling 
the  final  letter,  and  the  prolonged  nasal  sound  by  nh.  The  numbers 
as  far  as  twenty-two  run  thus :  Kli,  nahkee,  tah,  dteen,  estlahh,  hos- 
tonn,  susett,  seepee,  nostyy,  niznahh,  klitzetta,  nahkeetsetta,  tahtsetta, 
dteentsetta,  estlahta,  hostahta,  susetetta,  seepetta,  nostytsetta,  nahta, 
nahta  kli,  nahta  nahkee,  etc.  "  Thirty  "  is  tahta,  "  forty  "  dteenta,  and 
so  on,  while  after  each  the  ten  integers  run  as  at  first. 

We  are  off  before  noon  of  June  18th,  the  whole  white  population 
joining  us  in  a  "stirrup  cup,"  and  white,  brown,  and  red  waving  a 
good-bye.  John,  as  I  christened  my  Navajo,  led  the  way  up  Cafion 
Benito,  and  over  a  low  spur  of  red  hills  into  a  beautiful  green  valley 
about  a  mile  square,  quite  level,  and  covered  with  grass  a  foot  high. 
On  every  side  of  it  rose  bare  columns  and  ridges  of  sand-rock,  but 
from  their  base  trickled  here  and  there  tiny  rills  of  water — enough  to 
keep  the  valley  fertile.  Herds  of  sheep  and  goats,  attended  by  Nava- 
jo girls,  and  some  horses  attended  by  boys,  enlivened  the  scene. 
Through  this,  and  on  to  another  sand-ridge,  then  three  miles  more, 
brought  us  to  a  long  narrow  valley,  winding  for  miles  among  the  hills, 
and  looking  as  if  it  had  once  been  the  bed  of  a  river,  and  been  heaved 
up  by  some  convulsion.  For  hours  we  crossed  such  valleys  every  two 
or  three  miles,  none  of  them  more  than  a  hundred  yards  wide,  and 
separated  by  barren  ridges.  The  grass  in  the  valleys  was  rank  and 
thrifty ;  the  ridges  had  nothing  but  an  occasional  sprig  of  sage-brush 
or  cactus.  Every-where  along  the  grass-plats  were  shepherd  girls 
with  considerable  flocks,  each  girl  carrying  a  set  of  Navajo  spools  and 
spindle  and  a  bunch  of  wool,  on  which  she  worked  in  the  intervals  of 
watching.  These  spools  are  very  similar  in  shape  to  those  used  in  our 
rural  districts,  but  large  and  clumsy.  "With  a  pointed  stick,  turned  in 
the  right  hand,  the  spinner  runs  the  wool  on  to  the  larger  spool  in 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  255 

rolls  somewhat  smaller  than  the  little  finger.  Having  filled  it,  and 
transferred  to  a  smaller  stick,  she  runs  it  to  the  smaller  spool  in  the 
form  of  a  very  coarse  yarn,  when  it  is  ready  for  the  "filling"  in  a 
blanket.  Herding  is  the  most  laborious  work  the  Navajo  girls  have 
to  do.  They  have  all  the  advantages  of  the  healthful  climate,  without 
the  fatigue  of  long  expeditions,  and  are,  as  a  rule,  stronger  and  health- 
ier than  the  men.  They  are  the  only  Indian  girls  I  ever  saw  who 
even  approximate  to  the  Cooper  ideal.  Their  dress  is  picturesque,  con- 
sisting of  separate  waist  and  skirt;  the  former  leaves  the  arms  bare, 
and  is  made  loose  above  and  neat  at  the  waist;  the  latter  is  of  flowered 
calico,  with  a  leaning  to  red  and  black,  and  terminates  just  below  the 
knee  in  black  border  or  frills.  Neat  moccasins  complete  the  costume, 
the  limbs  being  left  bare  generally  in  the  summer.  They  are  very 
shapely  and  graceful,  and  their  strength  is  prodigious. 

This  plateau,  the  ridges  being  of  sandstone  and  the  narrow  valleys  of 
mixed  sand  and  black  earth,  is  at  least  7,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
Thence  we  descended  to  a  wooded  hollow,  again  toiled  up  to  the 
plateau  level,  and  soon  entered  the  most  magnificent  forest  I  have  seen 
outside  of  California.  A  cold  wind  had  chilled  us  on  the  ridges,  but 
in  the  forest  there  was  a  dead  calm,  though  we  could  hear  the  breeze 
sighing  far  above  us.  This  splendid  park  continued  for  ten  miles; 
then  we  descended  to  another  valley,  where  the  soil  was  evidently  rich, 
though  perfectly  bare  for  want  of  water;  but  around  the  edges  was  a 
bordering  meadow  of  good  grass,  spangled  with  Ved  and  yellow  flow- 
ers. This  valley  is  an  oval  some  five  miles  long,  opening  northward, 
and  lacks  only  water  to  become  a  little  Eden.  From  this  we  rose  to 
another  forest,  also  of  sugar-pines,  but  not  so  large  or  thrifty  as  the 
first.  My  guide  informs  me  that  these  forests  are  as  long  as  they  are 
wide,  and,  as  we  traveled  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  through  them, 
they  must  cover  some  two  hundred  square  miles.  This  will  be  a  great 
source  of  wealth  to  the  Navajoes,  if  they  learn  how  to  use  it. 

The  timber  continued  to  the  entrance  of  Bat  Canon,  by  which  we 
enter  the  De  Chelley.  There  my  guide  points  to  a  side  -gulch,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Tohh  klohh  no  mas,"  and  we  stop  for  the  night.  Hoppling  the 
horse  for  a  night's  grazing,  we  sample  our  provisions,  with  satisfactory 
results,  and  retire.  Navajo  blankets  will  not  admit  the  moisture  of 
the  ground,  even  if  there  had  been  any,  which  there  was  not ;  and  with 
two  over  me,  and  the  saddle-blanket  below  me,  I  was  comfortable  till 
towards  morning,  when  the  cold  was  intense.  We  hasten  to  descend 
into  the  cafion  before  the  sun  is  hot,  and  go  down  from  the  grove  upon 
a  sandy  plain,  dotted  with  scrubby  hemlocks,  and  sometimes  with  tim- 


256  WESTERN   WILDS. 

ber  of  larger  growth.  The  surroundings  all  show  that  we  are  on  the 
Pacific  coast;  the  dry,  gray  and  yellow  grass,  straight  sugar-pines  and 
scraggy  hemlocks,  and  the  soft  airs  loaded  with  resinous  odors.  We 
enter  next  upon  a  vast  flat  of  sandstone,  on  which  the  little  feet  of 
Navajo  burros  have  cut  the  trail  into  a  groove  two  inches  deep,  and 
cross  it  to  the  head  of  Bat  Caflon.  The  first  view  is  discouraging. 
We  come  suddenly  to  an  abrupt  break  in  the  sandstone,  no  more  than 
a  rod  wide,  down  which  we  can  look  a  thousand  feet  perpendicular  to 
the  yellow  bottom.  A  few  hundred  yards  beyond  we  find  a  side 
groove,  which  lets  us  down  to  the  first  offset,  and  thence,  by  a  succession 
of  rocky  grooves,  we  work  our  way  with  cautious  steps  to  the  bottom. 

Wre  appear  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  a  vast  funnel,  but  there  is  a  pass 
three  rods  wide,  still  leading  downward.  Soon  the  cliffs  above  us 
overhang,  and  we  pass  through  a  gorge  where  the  sun  never  shines, 
and  thousands  of  gaunt  bats,  of  a  strange  species,  inhabit  the  crevices 
of  the  cliffs,  and  flit  about  in  midday  twilight.  According  to  my 
guide,  this  is  the  place  by  way  of  which  cowardly  Navajoes  must  enter 
the  spirit-land  after  death. 

Passing  this  the  narrow  walls  give  back,  and  we  are  in  a  little 
valley  with  running  water  and  occasional  clumps  of  grass,  and 
bounded  by  perpendicular  cliffs.  As  we  proceed,  the  valley  gets  wider, 
but  the  walls  appear  to  overhang  rather  than  maintain  a  plumb  line. 
Occasionally,  an  entirely  detached  rock  is  seen  standing  out  from  some 
sharp  corner  where  there  is  a  turn  in  the  canon,  a  sort  of  tower  sev- 
eral hundred  feet  high,  and  no  more  than  a  hundred  thick,  its  sides 
and  summit  cut  into  a  thousand  fanciful  shapes  by  the  action  of  sand 
and  wind.  Other  pieces  of  the  cliff  appear  to  have  been  loosened,  and 
to  have  slipped  down ;  and  in  many  places  there  were  enormous  slabs 
two  or  three  hundred  feet  high  leaning  against  the  wall.  Wind  and 
loose  sand  had  cut  the  face  of  the  cliff  into  ten  thousand  fanciful 
shapes:  elephants,  hippopotami,  alligators,  and  most  ludicrous  human 
heads  looked  down  upon  us,  and  from  a  peak  two  thousand  feet  over- 
head a  gigantic  bear  appeared  just  plunging  from  the  summit. 

"  Mahloka  ! "  exclaimed  the  guide,  and  following  .the  direction  of 
his  finger,  I  saw  the  "  woman,"  a  shepherd  girl,  springing  down  over 
the  rocks  in  a  narrow  side  gulch.  She  showed  me,  through  the 
narrow  opening  into  the  gulch,  that  the  latter  widened  out  behind  the 
cliffs  into  a  rocky  valley  where  her  herd  of  goats  were  feeding.  She 
preferred  the  common  request  for  chin-ne-ah-go  (bread),  and  in  return 
for  a  small  gift,  conducted  us  to  a  plat  of  good  grass,  near  the  junc- 
tion of  Caflon  de  Chelley,  where  we  let  our  animals  graze  two  hours, 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  257 

as  I  intended  remaining  in  the  cafion  all  day.  We  had  scarcely  got 
our  baggage  piled,  before  the  whole  community  of  three  families  were 
about  us.  I  pacified  them  with  tobacco,  preferring,  if  we  got  into  a 
strait,  to  do  without  that,  rather  than  bread. 

Bat  Canon  there  runs  nearly  straight  west,  and  is  joined  by  Caflon 
de  Chelley  from  the  north-east ;  the  meeting  of  the  two  and  the  turn 
below  produces  three  grand  peaks,  facing  to  one  center,  some  fifteen 
hundred  feet  high,  and  quite  perpendicular.  But  the  most  remarkable 
and  unaccountable  feature  of  the  locality  is  where  the  two  cailons 
meet.  There  stands  out  a  hundred  feet  from  the  point,  entirely  iso- 
lated, a  vast  leaning  rock  tower,  at  least  twelve  hundred  feet  high, 
and  not  over  two  hundred  thick  at  the  base,  as  if  it  had  originally 
been  the  sharp  termination  of  the  cliff,  and  been  broken  off  and 
shoved  further  out.  It  almost  seems  that  one  must  be  mistaken,  that 
it  must  have  some  connection  with  the  cliff,  until  one  goes  around  it 
and  finds  it  a  hundred  feet  or  more  from  the  former.  It  leans  at  an 
angle  from  the  perpendicular  of  at  least  fifteen  degrees ;  and  lying 
down  at  the  base  on  the  under  side,  by  the  best  "  sighting  "  I  could 
make,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  opposite  upper  edge  was  directly  ovec 
me.  That  is  to  say,  mechanically  speaking,  its  center  of  gravity 
barely  falls  within  the  base,  and  a  heave  of  only  a  yard  or  two  more 
would  cause  it  to  topple  over.  Appearances  indicate  that  it  was 
originally  connected  with  the  point  of  the  cliff,  but  the  intermediate 
and  softer  sand-rock  has  fallen,  been  reduced  to  sand,  and  wafted 
away  down  the  cafion.  Climbing  to  some  of  the  curious  round  holes 
in  the  cliff  I  could  see  the  process  of  wear  going  on ;  the  harder  parti- 
cles of  the  sand  blown  into  the  holes,  were  being  whirled  about  by  the 
wind,  slowly  and  steadily  boring  into  the  cliffs,  and  beginning  that 
carvkig  which  is  to  result  in  more  of  the  grotesque 'shapes. 

It  was  but  a  few  miles  now,  the  guide  informed  me,  till  we  should 
reach  the  celebrated  "  cliff  cities "  which  have  made  this  cafion  so 
famous.  While  leaning  on  the  pommel  of  my  saddle  in  an  after-din- 
ner rest,  I  was  startled  by  a  shout  from  my  guide  of  "Ah-yee !  Ah- 
yee,  Melicano,  ettah-hof/anday  !  "  ("  There,  there,  sir  American ;  the 
mountain-houses.")  Looking,  I  saw  the  first  hamlet,  a  small  collec- 
tion of  stone  huts  some  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  cafion  bed,  and 
perhaps  three  hundred  feet  below  the  summit.  One  glance  served  to 
disprove  many  of  the  theories  advanced  about  rope  ladders  and  the 
like.  It  could  not  have  been  reached  thus,  for  the  cliff  overhung 
considerably  both  above  and  below  it.  Indeed,  a  rope  dropped  from 
the  brow  of  the  cliff  above  would  have  swung  over  the  canon  a 
17 


258  WESTERN   WILDS. 

hundred  feet  farther  out  than  the  ledge  on  which  the  houses  stood. 
As  near  as  I  could  judge  at  the  distance,  the  ledge  was  fifty  feet 
wide,  and  the  houses  some  twenty  feet  square.  Evidently  the 
"  Aztecs"  who  boarded  there  did  not  go  to  bed  by  means  of  a  rope- 
ladder. 

My  guide  was  now  all  life  and  animation,  shouting  and  calling  my 
attention  to  every  thing  of  note  on  the  cliffs  as  we  walked  our  horses 
slowly  down  the  sandy  stream.  He  seemed  to  take  as  much  interest 
in  the  ettah-hoganday  as  I  did.  An  hour  more  brought  us  to  a  better 
object  of  study  :  the  ruins  of  a  considerable  village  were  on  the  bottom 
of  the  canon,  by  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  and  about  a  hundred  feet 
straight  above  them,  ten  or  a  dozen  houses  in  perfect  preservation, 
standing  all  together  on  a  ledge  a  hundred  feet  wide,  and  completely 
inaccessible.  Above  the  village  the  cliff  was  perpendicular  for  a 
hundred  feet  or  more,  then  gradually  swelled  outwardly  till  it  ex- 
tended considerably  over  the  houses,  leaving  them  thus  actually  in  a 
great  crevice  in  the  rock.  Here  was  a  wonder.  My  Navajo  ran 
about  with  the  activity  of  a  cat,  and  in  several  places  managed  to 
climb  up  twenty  feet  or  so,  then  the  smooth  Avail  cut  off  further  prog- 
ress. Hunting  along  the  rock  he  found  and  called  my  attention  to 
some  holes  looking  like  steps  cut  into  the  stone,  which  seemed  to 
lead  up  to  a  point  where  one  of  the  peculiar  stone  slabs  I  have  de- 
scribed leaned  against  the  cliff.  The  opposite  side  of  the  canon  was 
accessible,  and  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  distant,  so  we  went 
over  there  and  climbed  to  a  point  somewhat  higher  than  the  pueblo. 
I  then  saw  that  the  ledge  or  groove  in  the  rock,  in  which  the  pueblo 
was  built,  ran  along  the  cliff  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  some  distance 
beyond  where  we  found  the  stone  steps;  and  thought  I  saw  indications 
of  steps,  leading  down  from  it  a  little  way  to  ward*  the  detached  -slab. 
Possibly,  I  thought,  this  slab  may  have  been  fast  above  when  the  vil- 
lage had  inhabitants,  and  furnished  them  a  winding  stairway.  I  saw, 
also,  that  the  houses  were  of  a  most  admirable  construction,  built  of 
flat  stones  laid  in  mortar,  and  neatly  .whitewashed  inside;  and  that  the 
joists  were  of  massive  timber,  round,  nearly  a  foot  thick,  and  dressed 
with  some  care.  At  the  distance  of  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet  there 
was  much  uncertainty,  but  I  fancied  I  also  saw  fragments  of  iron  and 
leather  on  the  floor  of  one  house — the  only  one  into  which  the  sun- 
shine fell  directly.  From  the  situation  of  the  cliffs,  I  judge  that  about 
10  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  sun  would  be  shining  directly  in  the 
front  doors. 

A  remarkable  echo  is  observable  here.     A  sentence  of  ten  words 


WILD  LIFE  IN  AKIZONA.  259 

shouted  from  the  south  side,  is  returned  clearly  and  distinctly.  Not 
far  below  we  found  the  ruins  of  another  house,  not  more  than  forty 
feet  high,  with  shelving  rock  below.  The  Navajo  found  steps  to  lead 
half  way  up.  He  then  walked  along  a  flat  offset  five  or  six  feet  be- 
flow  the  house,  and  held  his  hands  against  my  feet  while  I  climbed  a 
shelving  rock  and  reached  it.  It  was  in  ruins,  and  most  of  the  ma- 
terial lay  in  a  heap  in  the  cafion  below.  Only  the  fire-place  and 
chimney,  built  against  the  cliff,  remained  whole ;  they  were  of  the 
common  Pueblo  pattern,  and  showed  dabs  of  whitewash.  I  sustained 
one  serious  disappointment.  Through  some  blunder  of  my  guide  or 
the  interpreter  who  instructed  him  at  Defiance,  I  missed  the  greatest 
wonder.  We  ought  to  have  turned  up  the  Cafion  de  Chelley  from 
where  we  entered  it,  and  a  mile  or  two  would  have  brought  us  to  the 
largest  pueblo,  one  capable  of  containing  a  thousand  people,  situated 
on  a  cliff  fifteen  hundred  feet  high  and  utterly  inaccessible. 

And  who  once  inhabited  these  towns?  Well,  I  am  of  opinion 
the  people  were  substantially  of  the  same  race  as  the  present  Pueblos. 
The  houses  are  an  exact  reproduction  of  those  at  Pueblo  de  Laguna, 
including  stone,  mortar,  towers,  acquarra  windows,  and  whitewashed 
interior.  From  the  lower  valleys  they  retreated  to  these  cliffs  where 
their  mounted  enemies  could  not  pursue  them.  But  the  streams  on 
which  they  depended  are  dried  up,  and  the  little  nooks  they  once  cul- 
tivated are  fast  being  buried  by  the  drifting  sand.  The  disintegrating 
cliffs  are  spreading  barrenness  over  all  the  valleys;  the  cafion  bed  is 
like  a  vast  river  of  sand.  As  we  journey  down  it  a  feeble  stream 
sometimes  shows  itself  for  a  few  rods,  and  is  then  lost;  again  our 
animals' hoofs  turn  up  moist  sand.  Occasionally  bright  meadows  of 
green  grass  appear;  and  again  the  sand  river  seems  to  divide  and  flow 
around  a  fertile  island  a  little  higher  than  the  main  land,  and  con- 
taining a  few  acres  of  dense  wheat-grass,  as  high  as  a  man's  head. 
Again  we  find  the  cliffs  sinking  from  a  perpendicular  to  a  slope  of 
sixty  degrees  or  so,  and  bordered  by  considerable  foot-hills;  and  there 
we  see  shrubby  hemlock,  bunch-grass,  a  few  herds  and  Navajo  ho- 
gans.  Above  are  their  goats  clambering  up  what  appears  the  bare, 
yellow  face  of  stone ;  but  riding  near  we  observe  hundreds  of  little 
gullies  worn  in  the  rock,  each  with  a  slight  stain  of  soil  and  a  few 
bunches  of  yellow  grass.  Looking  for  camp  early,  we  came  upon  a 
green  island  "of  some  ten  acres,  containing  three  Navajo  huts;  my 
guide  shouted  to  the  first  shepherd  girl  he  saw,  who  pointed  to  a  peak 
half  a  mile  away,  exclaiming,  "  Klohh,  tokh!"  We  rode  thither,  and 
to  my  surprise  found  that  the  cliffs  gave  back  and  inclosed  a  level 


260  WESTERN  WILDS. 

plat  of  a  few  acres,  a  sort  of  mountain  cove,  soddc'd  with  luxuriant 
grass,  and  containing  another  Navajo  settlement.  Their  goats  were 
kind  enough  to  prefer  the  high  gulches,  leaving  the  green  grass  of 
the  plat  in  abundance  for  our  stock.  In  the  center  was  a  dug  spring, 
but  no  running  water.  The  community  had  abundance  of  goats' 
milk  and  white  roots — nothing  else. 

While  the  Navajo  prepared  our  supper,  I  went  to  the  first  liogan, 
finding  an  old^man  quite  sick,  who  asked — the  only  Spanish  he  knew — 
if  I  had  any  azucar  y  cafe,  adding  that  he  had  not  tasted  food  for  a 
week.  His  daughter  went  back  to  camp  with  me,  after  the  sugar  and 
coifee,  and  all  the  other  women  in  the  settlement  having  arrived,  they 
waited  to  see  us  eat.  Opening  a  tin  box,  to  their  great  astonishment 
I  took  out  a  sardine  and  jokingly  held  it  out  for  them  to  see,  then  ate 
it,  when  they  turned  away  with  such  expressions  of  horror  and  dis- 
gust that  I  wras  heartily  ashamed  of  myself.  Their  feelings  were 
probably  about  the  same  as  ours  would  be  on  seeing  a  Fejee  chewing 
on  the  corpse  of  his  grandmother.  Fish  and  turkeys  either  will  be  or 
have  been  human  beings,  in  their  theology ;  they  never  touch  the 
former,  and  the  latter  only  to  escape  absolute  starvation.  I  had  been 
warned  that  I  would  find  my  Navajo  prone  to  disregard  cleanliness;  I 
found  him  rather  neat  and  careful.  But  imagine  my  astonishment 
when  I  saw  that  all  his  native  politeness  could  not  entirely  conceal 
his  disgust  at  eating  with  me.  The  sardines  had  done  for  my  repu- 
tation among  the  Navajoes. 

Supper  over,  I  climbed  as  far  as  possible  up  one  of  the  side  gulches, 
lighted  my  pipe,  and  sat  down  to  watch  the  line  of  sunshine  and  shadow 
creep  slowly  up  the  sixteen  hundred  feet  of  the  opposite  cliff,  while  the 
red  sun  sank  behind  the  mountains.  Sunlight  gave  place  to  dusk,  and 
the  day's  heat  to  a  sharp  air  which  made  me  draw  my  blanket  close 
around  my  shoulders  ;  then  came  on  the  brilliant  night  of  this  climate, 
in  which  every  silvery  star  seems  to  stand  out  from  a  firmament  of 
polished  steel.  But  in  a  few  minutes  the  moon  rose  above  the  east- 
ward peaks,  and  poured  a  flood  of  glory  on  the  barren  rocks,  trans- 
forming the  red  peaks  to  shining  mountains  of  gold,  and  the  sand-flat 
to  a  flowing,  glittering  stream  of  gems.  The  air  held  no  trace  of 
moisture.  I  was  weary,  but  the  sight  was  too  glorious  to  admit  of 
sleep.  I  sat  and  gazed  ;  tried  to  reason  on  the  geology  of  these  hills, 
but  soon  nature  compelled  me  from  the  domain  of  science  to  that  of 
imagination.  It  was  a  time  to  admire  and  enjoy,  not  to  philoso- 
phize ;  for,  though  we  go  back  in  scientific  fancy  from  age  to  age, 
from  cosmic  process  to  cosmic  process,  we  come  at  last  to  a  mighty 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  261 

void  which  reason  can  not  pass,  and  can  only  think :  "  IN  THE  BEGIN- 
NING, GOD — 

There,  in  childhood,  we  began  ;  there,  after  ages  of  scientific  con- 
jecture, must  we  rest.  Reason  exhausted  leans  on  faith,  and  learning's 
last  endeavor  ends  where  revelation  began. 

We  were  off*  next  day  at  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn,  hoping  to  reach 
grass  and  water  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  knowing  that  at  the  best 
we  had  a  long  day's  ride  before  us.  It  is  delightful  for  travel  till 
about  10  o'clock;  then  the  morning  breeze  dies  away,  and,  as  the 
afternoon  breeze  does  not  rise  till  about  three,  the  intervening  heat 
is  terrible.  We  are  already  nearly  two  thousand  feet  below  Defiance, 
and  going  a  little  lower  every  day,  with  corresponding  change  in  the 
climate.  The  grand  scenery  continues  to  the  very  mouth  of  the  canon, 
which  we  reached  in  two  hours,  then  breaks  down  into  a  brief  succes- 
sion of  foot-hills  and  ridges  of  loose  sand,  and  brings  us  to  an  open 
plain.  Here  were  two  or  three  sections  of  land  under  some  sort  of 
cultivation  by  the  Navajoes,  but  it  was  the  most  pitiable  prospect  for  a 
crop  I  ever  saw.  The  feeble,  yellow  blades  of  corn,  three  or  four 
inches  in  height,  had  struggled  along  through  drought  and  cold  till 
the  heavy  frost  of  June  17th,  and  now  most  of  them  lay  flat  on  the 
ground.  My  guide  waved  his  hand  over  the  field,  exclaiming,  mourn- 
fully, "  Muerto,  muerto  "  (dead) ;  "  no  chinneahgo  Navajoes"  A  few  of 
the  more  resolute  were  out  replanting,. which  they  did  with  a  sharpened 
stick,  or  rather  paddle.  They  dig  a  hole  some  ten  inches  through  the 
dry  surface  sand  to  the  moist  layer  underneath,  in  the  edge  of  which 
they  deposit  the  grain.  They  plant  wheat  the  same  way,  in  little  hills 
a  foot  or  so  apart,  and  weed  it  carefully  till  it  is  grown  enough  to  cul- 
tivate. If  there  is  water,  they  irrigate ;  otherwise,  it  has  to  take  its 
chances ;  and  the  guide  informed  me  that  the  acecquia  we  saw  issuing 
from  the  canon  had  long  been  dry.  Twenty  bushels  of'corn  and  ten 
of  wheat  are  extra  crops.  If  any  citizen  of  rural  Ohio,  who  can  de- 
liberately sit  down  three  times  a  day  and  recklessly  eat  all  his  appe- 
tite craves,  is  dissatisfied,  he  ought  to  travel  awhile  in  this  country. 

Crossing  the  dry  arroyo  we  rose  on  the  western  side  to  a  vast  flood- 
plain,  ten  miles  wide,  and  running  as  far  as  I  could  see  from  north  to 
south.  The  surface  showed  that  it  had  been  flooded  some  time  within 
the  last  few  years ;  there  was  not  a  trace  of  alkali  or  other  noxious 
mineral,  and  the  soil  was  of  great  natural  fertility.  But  there  was 
not  a  spear  of  vegetation  on  it,  simply  for  lack  of  moisture.  Here  are 
at  least  a  hundred  square  miles,  formed  of  detritus  and  vegetable  mold, 
now  utterly  worthless  for  want  of  water.  If  artesian  wells  are  possible, 


262  WESTERN  WILDS. 

the  whole  tract  may  be  of  great  value.  We  rose  thence  by  a  succession 
of  white  sand  hills  to  a  horrible  desert,  which  extended  some  twenty 
miles.  Our  horses  suffered  from  both  heat  and  thirst,  and  the  water- 
in  our  canteens  was  soon  simmering  warm.  As  we  neared  a  low 
range  of  gray  and  chalky-looking  hills,  the  sage-brush  appeared  a 
little  more  thrifty,  and  sometimes  showed  a  faint  green  tinge,  indicat- 
ing there  was  water  somewhere  in  the  vicinity. 

A  faint  track,  as  if  made  by  sheep  or  goats,  crossed  our  trail, 
whereat  the  guide  whirled  his  horse  toward  the  ridge,  ran  his  eye 
along  the  peaks,  and  selecting  one  which  to  my  eye  in  no  way  dif- 
fered from  the  rest,  exclaimed,  "  Toll!"  and  we  started  for* it.  At  the 
mouth  of  the  gorge  was  a  sickly  little  cottonwood  in  a  small  depres- 
sion, at  which  the  guide  remarked:  "  Toll pasar  muchos  anos "  (water 
many  years  ago),  and  we  struck  up  the  nearest  gulch.  The  rock 
every-where  was  crumbling  away ;  it  was  like  riding  up  a  mountain 
of  chalk.  At  the  foot  of,  and  partly  underneath  a  large  cliff,  we  found 
two  holes,  scooped  out  by  Indian  hatchets,  and  containing  a  gallon  or 
so  of  water  to  each,  the  one  almost  cool  and  the  other  blood  warm. 
After  treating  ourselves  to  a  quart  or  so  each,  my  horse  drank  the  cool 
one  and  the  burro  the  other,  and  we  struck  into  the  desert  again.  On 
the  western  side,  my  guide  had  told  me,  we  should  see  the  last  Nava- 
joes;  but  we  soon  met  most  of  the  colony  driving  before  them  their 
little  herds,  and  to  the  guide's  question  they  replied  that  the  grass 
there  was  gone,  the  water  dried  up  to  one  spring,  and  that  was  hoh- 
kawah  ki  wano  (decidedly  not  good).  Though  I  did  not  quite  under- 
stand this,  I  saw,  by  its  effect  on  the  guide,  that  it  wras  bad  news  for 
us,  who  had  already  ridden  forty  miles. 

There  was  but  one  family  left,  and  the  girl  showed  us  a  specimen 
kettle  of  the  water.  It  was  horrible  stuff,  but  we  must  have  some  of 
it,  and  climbing  an  hour  we  reached  the  pool.  All  around  it  the  sand- 
stone had  been  trodden  to  powder  and  was  drifting  into  the  water, 
which  was  green,  slimy,  full  of  vile  pollywogs,  and  looked  and  smelt 
as  if  ten  thousand  goats  had  waded  through  it.  The  horse  and  burro 
drank  with  many  sniffs  and  brute  protests,  and  John  and  I  downed  a 
pint  or  so  each ;  but  it  was  a  signal  triumph  of  catholic  stomachs  over 
protesting  noses.  We  had  no  more  than  reached  the  plain  till  both 
of  us  were  sick,  and  in  an  hour  I  dismounted,  unable  to  ride  further. 
John  ran 'about  in  great  distress,  gathered  some  dry  yellow  flowers, 
and  burnt  them  under  my  nose,  producing  a  violent  sneezing  and 
retching.  Placing  his  hand  on  my  stomach,  he  indicated,  by  most 
expressive  signs,  that  "  it  must  come  up."  Having  lighted  my  pipe 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  263 

K 

and  placed  it  in  my  mouth,  he  moistened  some  tobacco  and  placed  it 
under  my  arms  and  on  the  pit  of  my  stomach.  The  convulsion  was 
terrible,  but  the.  vile  water  did  come  up. 

Two  hours  more  and  my  thirst,  aggravated  by  the  previous  sickness, 
became  intolerable.  John  decided  that  we  must  climb  the  mountain 
to  our  right,  to  another  "pocket"  which  contained  good  water.  We 
toiled  upward  for  a  thousand  feet,  to  a  point  where  a  soft  limestone 
reef  broke  across  the  sand-mountain.  Here  he  pointed  out  a  black 
pass  between  two  rocks,  and  leaving  our  horses  we  entered  it  to  find  a 
beautiful  pool  of  cold,  clear  water,  nearly  a  rod  square  and  completely 
covered  by*  overhanging  rocks.  Here  we  drank,  filled  the  canteens, 
and  rested  until  the  moon  was  high  enough  to  light  us  back  to  the 
plain.  My  horse  either  smelt  the  water  or  heard  its  splash,  and 
uttered  a  low  pleading  whinny  that  went  to  my  heart.  It  was  im- 
possible to  get  him  under  the  rocky  arch  into  the  cave,  and  I  had  no, 
vessel  but  a  tin-cup.  I  tried  that,  but  could  not  even  moisten,  his 
tongue;  I  wet  my  handkerchief  and  tried  to  "swab"  his  mouth;  he 
chewed  it  to  rags  and  bit  my  finger  in  the  operation.  About  to  give 
up  in  despair,  I  thought  of  my  wool  hat,  and  filled  that  for  him.  It 
fitted  his  mouth  admirably,  and  by  eleven  trips  with  it  he  was  satis- 
fied. Half  a  dozen  hatfuls  sufficed  for  the  burro,  and  we  worked  our 
way  down  hill  again.  But  this  time  my  Navajo's  sense  of  locality 
failed  him,  and  on  the  steepest  part  he  took  the  wrong  chute,  pulling 
up  his  burro  just  in  time  to  avoid  his  plunging  head  first  into  a  ravine, 
but  not  in  time  to  save  himself,  as  the  saddle  girth  gave  Avay  just  at 
the  wrong  moment.  As  he  went  head  first  into  a  pile  of  bowlders  and 
sand,  I  looked  on  in  horror,  fully  satisfied  that  I  was  left  alone  in  this 
terrible  place ;  but  he  sprang  up  instantly,  and  with  a  silly  smile,  and 
"  Vah,  vah,  Melicano,  malo,  malo!"  remounted  and  rode  on,  only  rub- 
bing his  crown  occasionally. 

Getting  back  to  the  plain,  we  continued  our  former  course  south- 
west along  the  foot  of  the  mesa.  My  eyelids  began  to  droop  with 
weariness,  and  for  fear  I  shojuld  drop  off  my  horse  in  sleep,  I  loosed 
my  feet,  and  raising  the  stirrup  leathers,  wrapped  them  about  each 
arm.  The  position  was  not  favorable  to  sleep,  nor  could  I  keep  en- 
tirely awake ;  and  soon  I  suffered  from  that  queer  symptom  of  dream- 
ing with  the  eyes  wide  open,  and  fixed  upon  the  very  object  of  my 
dream.  The  bright  moonlight  fell  upon  the  projecting  peaks  of  the 
ridge  to  our  right,  and  I  endeavored  to  keep  awake  by  contemplating 
their  beauty ;  but  as  I  gazed  I  saw  suddenly  a  score  of  bright,  clear 
streams  dashing  down  as  many  gulches,  and  a  broad  savanna  on  the 


264  WESTERN   WILDS. 

plain  below,  rich  and  green  with  inviting  grass.  I  shouted  to  the 
guide:  "Kloh!  Toh!"  (grass,  water),  and  jerking  up  ray  horse, 
pitched  forward  on  his  neck  and  awoke.  I  braced  myself  more  firmly 
to  keep  awake,  and  in  a  few  moments,  looking  on  a  rock  a  little  ahead, 
I  saw  a  hideous  painted  Indian  bound  out  from  behind  it  and  take 
position  in  the  sage-brush  near  the  trail.  I  yelled  to  the  guide  and 
grabbed  my  gun,  and  just  as  the  hammer  was  clicking  under  my  hand, 
Indian  and  rock  disappeared,  and  the  answering  shout  of  the  guide 
brought  me  to  my  waking  senses.  I  knew  there  was  hot  a  hostile 
Indian  in  fifty  miles,  so,  for  fear  I  would  shoot  my  own  horse,  I  gave 
the  gun  to  the  Navajo,  and  again  resolved  to  keep  awake.  He  still 
pointed  ahead  for  grass,  but  indicated  that  it  was  now  "pokeeto"  (a 
little  way).  'While  gazing  on  a  sand  ridge  we  were  crossing,  I 
seemed  to  see  it  covered  with  grass  and  flowers,  and  shouting  that  this 
was  the  place,  reined  up  my  horse  suddenly,  and  again  butted  him  in 
the  back  of  the  head,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  giving  us  both  the  poll- 
evil.  . 

At  last,  near  midniglit,  we  reached  the  little  oasis  I  had  anticipated 
in  so  many  fitful  dreams.  There  was  abundant  bunch-grass  but  no 
water,  and  we  made  a  "dry  camp."  "While  the  Navajo  hoppled  the 
horses,  I  wrapped  my  blankets  about  me,  laid  my  head  upon  my  sad- 
dle, and  in  two  minutes  was  sound  asleep.  It  seemed  that  I  had 
scarcely  closed  my  eyes  when  I  was  awakened  by  a  "  Hah-koh,  Meli- 
cano!"  and,  starting  up,  saw  my  Navajo  holding  the  animals  ready 
to  mount,  and  pointing  to  the  east,  already  rosy  with  the  coming  dawn. 
Moving  his  hand  thence  towards  a  point  half  way  to  the  zenith, 
he  remarked:  "  IZloh,  toll!  No  calor,"  Navajo,  Spanish  and  sign- 
language,  meaning  in  full:  "By  starting  now  we  shall  reach  grass  and 
water  the  middle  of  the  forenoon,  and  before  the  heat  of  the  day." 
Nevertheless,  I  decided  that  a  cup  of  coffee  would  help  things,  as 
there  was  sage-brush  enough  for  a  fire,  and  a  pint  of  water  still  in  the 
canteen. 

After  coffee  and  bread,  we  found  the  morning  ride  delightful,  and 
through  a  better  country  which  produced  considerable  grass.  The 
valley  slowly  narrowed  to  a  mere  pass ;  beyond  the  rugged  jaws  of 
this  red  canon  there  opened  an  extensive  plain,  and  in  its  center  rose 
an  oval  mesa,,  which  the  guide  designated  as  Moqui.  We  made  our 
midday  halt  at  the  point  of  the  mountain;  but  when  the  guide  indi- 
cated grass  and  water  up  and  over  a  perfectly  bare  white  sand-hill,  I 
shook  my  head.  He  only  smiled,  and  led  the  way.  With  frequent 
rests  to  our  horses,  we  had  toiled  up  and  over  the  rising  sand-hills  for 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  265 

something  like  a  mile,  when  a  sudden  descent  brought  us  into  a  cir- 
cular hollow,  containing  half  a  dozen  shrubs  and  nearly  an  acre  of 
densely  matted  grass.  At  the  foot  of  the  cliff  was  a  slight  moisture, 
and  pointing  to  a  black  rock  which  appeared  nearly  five  hundred  feet 
straight  above  us,  the  guide  intimated  there  was  our  spring.  Every 
thing  was  stripped  from  the  animals  except  the  lariats,  but  how  we 
ever  got  them  up  that  hill  is  a  mystery  to  me;  but  we  did,  and  found 
plenty  of  good  water,  brought  down  our  supply,  and  remained  in  this 
camp  until  3  P.  M.  We  cooked  a  fresh  supply  of  bread,  ate  a  big 
dinner,  and  enjoyed  a  delightful  "laze"  in  the  shadow  of  a  big  rock. 

We  here  overhauled  our  kit,  brushed  up  a  little,  and  put  on  our 
best  gear  for  a  visit;  and,  when  the  afternoon  breeze  had  sprung  up, 
entered  upon  the  sandy  plain,  and  followed  a  slight  trail  towards  the 
mesa.  Occasional  depressions  were  filled  with  yellow  bunch-grass,  but 
most  of  the  plain  was  of  hard,  bare  white  sand,  seeming  to  literally 
bake  in  the  heat  of  the  sun.  Approaching  the  foot  of  the  mesa  we 
found  the  sand  a  little  more  loose  and  dark.  Here  I  noticed  rows  of 
stones  a  foot  or  so  apart,  and  was  amazed  to  find,  on  examination,  we 
were  in  a  Moqui  field.  By  every  little  hill  of  corn  or  beans  they  had 
laid  a  stone,  the  object  being  to  mark  the  spot  during  the  long  period 
between  planting  and  the  appearance  of  the  shoot  above  ground. 

From  the  foot-hills  I  gazed  with  astonishment  upon  the  perpendic- 
ular walls  and  projecting  cliffs  of  the  mesa,  rising  a  thousand  feet 
above  me.  It  is  little  over  half  a  mile  long  and  half  as  wide,  and 
rises  abruptly  from  the  plain  on  every  side;  around  it  run  gal- 
leries and  foot-paths,  winding  in  and  out  upon  the  crevices  and  p*ro- 
jecting  shelves  of  rock;  and  far  above  my  head,  as  it  seemed  almost 
in  midair,  I  saw  goat-pens  upon  the  very  face  of  the  cliff,  opening 
back  into  dark  cool  caves,  where  the  stock'  is  inclosed  at  night.  Here 
and  there  was  to  be  seen  a  Moqui  woman  toiling  wearily  up  the  rocky 
gallery  with  a  water-jug  strapped  upon  her  back. 

It  was  a  strange  sight.  I  was  thrilled  at  the  thought  that  I  was 
looking  upon  the  chosen  stronghold  of  the  most  peculiar  race  of  Amer- 
ican Indians:  a  city  about  which  conjecture  and  romance  had  taken 
the  place  of  knowledge,  a  country  vaguely  described  by  hunters,  but 
never  by  careful  writers,  and  therefore  one  the  very  existence  of  which 
is  often  pronounced  fabulous.  It  is  perhaps  the  strongest  natural 
fortification  in  the  world.  Around  the  entire  mesa  there  is  but  one 
narrow  Way  that  a  horse  can  ascend,  and  on  that,  at  a  score  of  points, 
a  squad  of  boys  with  nothing  but  stones  could  defy  the  cavalry  of  the 
world.  The  springs  which  supply  the  community  are  situated  around 


266  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  base  of  the  highest  cliffs,  where  the  foot-hills  begin,  but  so  far  up 
that  most  of  them  can  not  be  reached  by  horses  from  below;  and 
even  most  of  their  little  fields  are  hidden  among  the  foot-hills,  and 
only  to  be  found  from  above.  From  the  general  level  of  the  plain  t6 
the  flat  top  of  the  mesa  I  estimate  at  a  thousand  feet.  Half  of  this 
rise  is  by  a  succession  of  rolling  sand  ridges,  and  then  we  come  to  a 
perpendicular  cliff,  only  surmountable  by  these  rock-hewn  galleries. 
The  community  owns  neither  horses  nor  cattle ;  nothing  but  goats,  and 
equally  agile  burros,  can  surmount  the  obstacles  of  such  a  situation. 

We  entered  upon  the  ascent  in  a  hot  and  narrow  pass  between  two 
sand  ridges,  and  soon  reached  the  first  spring,  below  which  was  a  suc- 
cession of  walled  fields.  Each  field  was  about  three  rods  wide  and  six 
long,  and  contained  some  three  hundred  hills  of  corn;  they  were 
built  up  against  the  sand  ridge,  a  stone  wall  four  or  five  feet  high 
forming  at  once  the  division  for  one  and  support  for  the  dirt  in  the 
next,  the  fields  rising  in  a  succession  of  terraces.  The  feeble  stream 
was  exhausted  before  it  passed  the  second  field,  and  it  is  only  in  the 
night  that  the  lower  ones  can  be  irrigated.  Farther  down,  where  there 
is  no  water,  the  Moqui  digs  a  hole  in  the  sand  eighteen  o.r  twenty 
inches  deep,  and  plants  his  corn  where  a  slight  moisture  has  perco- 
lated from  above.  We  passed  the  slope,  and  were  about  to  enter 
on  the  gallery  road,  when  a  Moqui  shouted  to  us  from  directly  over- 
head, and  in  obedience  to  his  directions,  though  at  the  imminent  risk 
of  our  necks,  the  guide  turned  down  a  rocky  foot-path  to  another  gal- 
lery. A  few  steps  showed  us  that  a  vast  sand-rock  had  fallen  across 
the  other  road,  and  a  new  one  had  been  built. 

As  \ve  turned  the  last  groove  in  the  gallery,  and,  almost  before  we 
were  aware  of  it,  the  houses  looking  so  much  like  stone,  we  were 
right  in  the  first  town,  all  the  men  of  which  seemed  to  be  absent.  At 
Defiance  I  was  told  to  ask  for  Chino,  the  Capitan  of  this  mesa,  before 
I  talked  to  any  one  else ;  so  I  shouted  to  call  out  some  one.  A  woman 
came  on  top  of  the  nearest  house,  and  seeing  me  immediately  set  up 
a  cry  of  jokow  !  jokow!  Then  from  every  house  women  and  children, 
with  occasionally  a  man  or  good-sized  boy,  came  running  on  to  the 
house-tops  and  down  -the  ladders  to  the  street,  while  the  cry  went 
ahead  from  house  to  house,  jokow!  jokow!  jokow!  A  population  of 
several  hundred  was  soon  crowding  about  me,  or  gazing  in  astonish- 
ment from  the  house-tops ;  the  women  were  chattering  and  exclaiming, 
and  the  children  when  I  rode  near  a  house  yelling  with  fright,  and 
altogether  we  were  creating  a  decided  sensation.  Again  I  called  for 
Chino,  and  a  dozen  boys  jumped  into  the  road  and  ran  along  the 


WILD  LIFE  IN  ARIZONA.  267 

cliff,  beckoning  me  to  follow.  We  passed  through  the  first  town,  the 
whole  population  following  in  a  tumultuous  mass,  and  in  the  second 
town — a  hundred  yards  on — found  and  were  admitted  to  the  lower 
part  of  Chino's  house.  He  was  not  at  home,  but  they  let  us  into  an 
extension  of  his  dwelling,  containing  but  one  story,  where  we  de- 
posited our  packs.  Twenty  boys  and  women  were  already  on  the 
house-top,  jostling  each  other  to  look  through  the  square  opening  at 
us;  as  many  more  were  crowding  into  the  room,  and  about  four  hun- 
dred were  outside  struggling  for  a  good  place. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  stared  at,  even  by  barbarians,  and  I  was 
greatly  relieved  when  a  tall  old  fellow,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  arrived,  addressed  me  in  pretty  good  Spanish,  and  intimated  that 
he  did  the  talking  for  Chino  when  strangers  came. '  His  name,  which 
he  had  on  a  card  written  by  some  white"  man,  was  Misiamtewah;  he 
had  visited  the  Mormon  settlements  and  Santa  Fe,  and  could  speak 
Spanish,  Moqui,  Tcgna  and  a  little  English  and  Navajo,  besides  being 
fluent  in  the  sign  language.  I  cultivated  his  acquaintance  at  once. 

Chino  soon  arrived,  and  assured  me,  per  Misiamtewah,  that  this  was 
my  town,  my  house,  my  country  as  long  as  I  wanted  to  stay,  and 
assigned  me  quarters  in  a  very  comfortable  room,  one  they  usually 
reserve  for  white  visitors.  We  stored  our  baggage,  sent  out  our 
animals  to  graze  with  the  common  herd,  opened  our  provisions  and 
took  supper  with  Chino  and  his  son.  I  was  in  pleasant  quarters  again, 
and  devoted  a  few  days  to  rest,  study  of  these  peculiar  people,  and 
jotting  down  notes  on  my  trip  through  the  two  Territories,  for  all  of 
which  see  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

AMONG   THE    AZTECS. 

ARIZONA  and  the  western  half  of  New  Mexico  constitute  a  vast  par- 
allelogram, down  the  center  of  which,  as  dividing  water-shed,  runs 
the  Sierra  Madre  range.  From  its  summit,  varying  from  seven  to 
ten  thousand  feet  high,  the  country  falls  off'  each  way  in  a  succession 
of  plateaus  to  the  two  great  rivers.  The  traveler  proceeding  west- 
ward from  the  Rio  Grande,  over  an  almost  level  mesa,  sees  rising  be- 
fore him  a  range  of  rocky  hills  from  a  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet- 
high,  and  naturally  looks  for  a  corresponding  descent  on  the  western 
side.  Instead,  on  reaching  the  summit,  he  finds  again  the  level,  bar- 
ren mesa  spreading  away  before  him,  till  its  sandy  and  glistening  sur- 
face fades  into  the  blue  horizon.  Across  this  succession  of  terraced 
plateaus  a  few  valleys  put  out  eastward,  and  in  the  loAvest  portions  of 
these,  where  some  running  water  is  found,  are  the  only  cultivable 
lands.  A  series  of  such  valleys,  connected  by  singular  natural  passes, 
furnish  a  feasible  route  for  the  Thirty-fifth  Parallel  Road. 

Still,  there  is  a  sort  of  regularity  on  the  New  Mexican  side;  but 
far  otherwise  west  of  the  summit.  There  the  high  plateaus  are  broken 
across  by  awful  chasms ;  gorges  with  perpendicular  sides  go  winding 
tortuously  through  the  formation  ;  all  the  streams  run  in  great  cafions 
from  two  to  five  thousand  feet  in  depth,  with  bottoms  from  one  to 
four  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Here  and  there  the 
barren  plateau  appears  to  drop  suddenly  to  a  level  plain,  and  rocky 
ranges  of  hills  inclose  an  oval  valley,  walled  in  on  every  side  by  inac- 
cessible mountains,  and  with  passes  out  only  up  or  down  the  beds  of 
ancient  streams,  long  since  dry.  It  is  the  oldest  country  on  earth,  ex- 
cept perhaps  the  "  back-bone  "  of  Central  Africa ;  natural  convulsions 
have  slowly  heaved  it  far  above  the  region  of  abundant  rains  or 
dews,  and  the  great  Colorado,  with  its  affluents,  has  for  ages  been 
slowly  cutting  deeper  and  deeper  channels  in  the  sandstone  formation, 
tapping  the  sources  of  the  springs  at  lower  points,  and  steadily  suck- 
ing the  life  out  of  its  own  basin.  On  the  rocky  hills  are  still  some 
fine  forests;  on  the  slopes  the  Indians  find  abundant  bunch-grass  and 
wild  sage  for  their  hardy  animals;  and,  at  rare  intervals,  a  hidden 


AMONG   THE  AZTECS. 


269 


valley  is  found,  low  enough  to  have  a  growing  season  without  frost, 
with  water  enough  for  irrigation,  its  soil  the  volcanic  detritus  of  neigh- 
boring hills,  and  of  wonderful  fertility.  Perhaps  one-fortieth  of  the 
entire  area  is  fit  for  agriculture. 


ON  THE  MESA  CALABASA. 


Three  races  inhabit, this  strange  region.  The  white  Americans  of 
both  Territories  number,  perhaps,  twenty  thousand ;  the  Mexicans  at 
least  a  hundred  thousand.  The  latter  are  the  result  of  miscegenation 
between  the  Spanish  conquerors  and  the  aborigines,  the  blood  being 


WESTERN   WILDS. 

about  half  and  half;  but  the  aristocracy  have  more  Spanish,  tlie- peons 
more  Indian.  The  pure  Indians  of  all  the  South-west  are  divided 
in  two  general  classes — Pueblos  and  Nomads.  The  first  are  all 
friendly,  including  the  Zunis,  Moquis,  Teguas,  Oraybes,  Papagoes, 
Pimos  and  Coco-Maricopas.  Of  the  Nomads,  the  Navajoes  are  now 
friendly,  the  Apaches  and  Comanches  fiercely  hostile,  and  the  Utes  a 
little  doubtful,  but  nominally  peaceful.  In  the  southern  sections,  the 
San  Francisco,  White  and  Magollon  Mountains  and  their  spurs 
break  up  the  country  into  a  thousand  hidden  valleys,  in  which  the 
murderous  Apaches  hide  and  graze  their  stock ;  the  few  trails  go  twist- 
ing through  narrow  canons,  in  which,  at  most  unexpected  places,  the 
savages  let  fly  upon  the  unwary  traveler  a  shower  of  poisoned  arrows,- 
and  dreary  intervals  of  desert  separate  the  scant  water-holes  on  which 
the  way-worn  explorer  must  depend. 

On  the  map  Arizona  appears  to  have  abundance  of  water,  but  it  is 
an  optical  illusion.  Nine-tenths  of  the  so-called  "rivers"  are  dry;  in 
the  four  hundred  miles  between  Agua  Azu  and  Lee's  Ferry,  on  the 
Colorado,  I  crossed  eleven  considerable  river-beds,  and  saw  running 
water  in  but  one  place.  The  Colorado  is  barely  navigable  for  part  of 
the  year,  and  not  far  up,  as  Brigbam  Young  found  to  his  cost  when  he' 
built  the  Callville  warehouses.  The  channel  is  crooked  and  changea- 
ble below  the  canon,  rocky  and  full  of  cataracts  in  the  canon,  shallow 
and  impassable  above  it.  Practically  it  is  useless  above  Fort  Yuma. 
For  fifteen  hundred  miles  it  will  float  no  boats ;  there  is  no  timber  on 
its  banks  that  can  be  got  at  or  is  worth  getting,  no  gold  deposits  in 
its  bars,  no  fish  in  it  worth  catching,  no  quarries  along  it  that  can  be 
utilized,  and  no  land  that  can  be  cultivated.  It  is  purely  an  orna- 
mental stream. 

Along  the  Gila  (HeelaJi)  live  the  semi-civilized  Pimos,  Maricopas 
and  Papagoes.  They  cultivate  the  earth  with  some  skill,  and  produce 
abundance  of  wheat,  corn,  pumpkins  and  melons.  Like  all  the  Pu- 
eblos the  men  are  scrupulously  holiest — the  women  virtuous  to  a  most 
un-Indian  degree.  They  are  well  supplied  with  horses,  cattle,  sheep 
and  goats,  are  exposed  to  Apache  raids,  and  freely  join  with  the 
whites  in  fighting  the  latter.  The  Papagoes  took  a  very  prominent 
part  in  the  notorious  Camp  Grant  massacre.  At  first  these  Indians 
were  delighted  at  the  coming  of  the  whites ;  now  they  are  sullen  and 
uncommunicative,  saying  thatt  the  agents  have  defrauded  them  and 
tried  to  debauch  their  women.  Probably  correct. 

The  nomadic  tribes,  except  the  Navajoes,  are  dying  off  at  a  very 
satisfactory  rate.  The  Yavapais  have  four  natural  deaths  to  one 


AMONG   THE  AZTECS, 


271 


birth.  One-tenth  of  the  Mohaves  have  died  annually  for  some  years. 
It  is  rare  to  see  one  of  this  tribe  entirely  free  from  the  scrofulous 
taint.  The  whole  Apache  race  numbers  less  than  7,000 ;  2,000  war- 
riors is  the  utmost  they  can  raise.  Forty  years  ago  they  numbered 


'CONVERTED  ON  THE  SPOT." 


25,000,  and  could  easily  collect  4,000  warriors  for  a  grand  raid  into 
Mexico.  But  they  are  incurably  wild,  and  often  hunted  like  wild 
beasts.  For  the  most  part  they  attack  white  men  at  sight,  and  many 
are  the  fearful  tragedies  enacted  in  these  wilds.  When  an  Apache  is 
killed,  the  white  settlers,  in  gleeful  sarcasm  of  Collyer  and  other  "  hu- 
manitarians," speak  of  him  as  "converted,"  or  "civilized  on  the  spot." 


272  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Among  the  Arizona  Indians  there  are  no  strong  tribal  organiza- 
tions, and  no  men  of  much  influence.  The  hostile  parties  are  not 
made  up  from  any  one  clique  or  small  settlement,  nor  do  the  members 
join  at  the  command  of  a  chief;  but  some  ambitious  leader  sends 
word  that  he  will  start  on  a  raict,  and  invites  the  braves  of  the  vicin- 
ity to  join.  It  is  therefore  impossible  to  govern  the  tribes  through 
the  chiefs  in  the  manner  practiced  east  of  the  IWky  Mountains. 

To  all  these  remarks  the  Navajoes  constitute  an  encouraging  ex- 
ception. They  are  the  original  Romans  of  New  Mexico.  Spanish 
accounts  say  that  at  the  Conquest  a  branch  of  the  ancient  Mexican 
Indians,  disdaining  to  submit,  took  refuge  in  the  hidden  valleys  and 
on  the  inaccessible  plateaus  of  the  Sierra  Madre ;  there.they  joined  a 
wild  tribe  of  the  Athabascan  stock,  and  from  the  union  of  the  two 
sprang  the  present  Navajoes.  Kindred,  on  the  Athabascan  side,  of  the 
Shoshonees,  Comanches,  Apaches  and  Arapahoes,  they  have  all  the 
bravery  and  best  qualities  of  the  wild  tribes,  while  from  the  old  Aztec 
or  Toltec  blood  they  inherit  a  peculiar  civilization,  fair  habits  of  in- 
dustry and  thrift,  and  something  like  a  spirit  of  progress.  For  two 
hundred  years  they  carried  on  almost  perpetual  war  with  the  Span- 
iards;  then  a  sort  of  peace  was  patched  up  and  continued  till  the 
Americans  got  control  of  the  country,  and  established  agencies.  Then 
war  followed,  of  course.  It  lasted  seven  years,  and  did  not  end  till 
General  W.  H.  Carleton,  in  1863-'64,  had  destroyed  all  their  or- 
chards and  corn-fields,  killed  their  sheep  and  goats,  and  literally  starved 
them  out. 

Barboncito,  their  great  chief,  a  born  diplomat,  succeeded  in  1868 
in  making  a  very  advantageous  treaty  with  General  Sherman;  and 
since  then  the  tribe  has  slowly  built  up  again.  Before  the  war  they 
numbered  12,000,  and  it  is  claimed  they  owned  over  a  million  sheep 
and  goats,  and  at  least  30,000  horses.  Even  now  there  are  few  adults 
in  the  tribe  who  do  not  own  one  or  more  horses  each.  Ganado 
Mncho  ("Big  Herd"),  a  prominent  chief,  owns  four  hundred.  In 

1870  they  began  farming  under  direction  of  the  agent,  but  so  far  it 
has  not  been   much    of  an    improvement  on   their  own  system.     In 

1871  they  planted  extensively,   and   had   a  young  orchard  growing 
finely,  when,  on  the  night  of  May  31st.  a  storm  of  sleet  killed  every 
tree.     The  seeds  furnished  by  the  department  were  utterly  unsuited 
to  this  altitude,  and  they  have  returned  to  their  old  system.     The 
country  appears  to  get  dryer  year  by  year.     It  is  a  pity  they  could 
not  be  transferred  en  masse  to  the  Indian  Territory. 

They  work  in  iron,  wool  and  leather;  but  to  no  great  extent,  ex- 


AMONG   THE  AZTECS. 


273 


cept  in  the  second.  Of  this  they  make  blankets,  which  are  the 
wonder  of  all  who  see  them.  The  loom  is  rude  and  primitive,  con- 
sisting only  of  beams  to  which  two  sticks  are  lashed;  on  these  the 
warp,  or  "  chain,"  is  stretched  very  tight,  the  two  sets  of  strands 
crossing  in  the  middle.  This,  with  two  loose  sticks,  dividing  the 
"  chain,"  and  a  curved  board,  looking  like  a  barrel  stave  with  the 
edges  rounded,  constitute  the  entire  loom.  The  squaw  sits  before  this 


NAVAJO  LOOM. 


with  her  balls  of  yarn  for  "  filling"  conveniently  arranged,  works 
them  through  the  strands,  and  beats  them  firmly  together  with  the 
loose  board,  running  it  in  between  the  strands  with  singular  dexterity. 
The  woolen  yarn  for  "filling"  is  made  from  their  own  sheep,  gen- 
erally, and  is  of  three  colors — black,  white  and  red,  from  native  col- 
oring. Running  these  together  by  turns,  with  nimble  fingers,  the 
squaw  brings  out  on  the  blanket  squares,  diamonds,  circles  and  fanci- 
ful curves,  and  flowers  of  three  colors,  with  a  skill  which  is  simply 
amazing.  Two  months  are  required  to  complete  an  ordinary  blanket, 
five  feet  wide  and  eight  long,  which  sells  at  from  fifteen  to  fifty  dol- 
lars, according  to  the  style  of  materials.  At  the  Fort,  officers  who 
18 


274  WESTERN   WILDS. 

wish  an  unusually  fine  article,  furnish  both  "chain"  and  "filling," 
but  those  entirely  of  Navajo  make  are  very  .fine.  One  will  outlast 
a  life-time ;  and  though  rolled  in  the  mud,  or  daubed  with  grease  for 
months  or  years,  till  every  vestige  of  color  seems  gone,  when  washed 
with  the  soap-weed  (mole  cactus)  the  bright  native  colors  come  out  as 
beautiful  as  ever. 

They  also  manufacture,  with  beads  and  silk  threads  obtained 
from  the  traders,  very  beautiful  neck-ties,  ribbons,  garters,  cuffs 
and  other  ornaments.  More  interesting  to  me  than  any  of  their 
handicraft,  is  the  unwearying  patience  they  display  in  all  their  work, 
and  their  zeal  and  quickness  to  learn  in  every  thing  which  may  im- 
prove their  condition.  Officers  and  agents  universally  tell  me  that 
Navajoes  work  alongside  of  any  employes  they  can  get,  and  do  full 
work.  They  dig  ditches  and  make  embankments  with  great  skill, 
handling  the  spade  as  well  as  any  Irishman.  Surely  such  a  people 
are  capable  of  civilization.  • 

Mrs.  Charity  Menaul,  teacher  at  Defiance,  reported  considerable 
progress  among  the  Navajoes  under  her  charge.  I  found  the  older 
people  curious  to  learn  about  our  customs,  and  very  communicative 
as  to  their  own,  though  like  all  barbarians  a  little  reticent  as  to  their 
theology.  Their  religion,  or  superstition,  is  vague ;  there  is  a  differ- 
ence on  minor  points  between  the  bands,  though  some  ideas  are  com- 
mon. Chinday,  the  devil,  is  a  more  important  personage  in  their 
system  than  Whylohay,  the  god;  as,  like  the  Mormons  and  many 
other  white  schismatics,  they  charge  all  they  don't  like  in  other  people 
to  the  direct  personal  agency  of  the  devil.  About  the  only  use,  in 
fact,  of  their  god,  is  to  lay  plans  to  outwit  the  devil.  Their  moral 
code  is  extremely  vague :  whatever  is  good  for  the  tribe  is  in  general 
right;  whatever  is  not  pro  bono  publico  is  wrong.  Cowards  after 
death  will  become  coyotes,  while  braves  will  continue  men  in  a  better 
country.  Women  will  change  to  fish  for  awhile,  and  afterwards  to 
something  else.  But  they  don't  trouble  themselves  much  about  the 
next  world.  If  they  had  plenty  in  this,  they  would  consider  them- 
selves in  luck. 

On  minor  points  there  are  as  many  sects  as  in  Boston.  The  general 
belief  is  this:  there  is  one  Great  Spirit;  under  him  each  people  has 
its  own  god.  The  god  of  the  Melicanoes  is  very  good  to  them ;  they 
have  corn  and  horses,  blankets  and  much  chinneahgo.  But  it  is  use- 
less for  Navajoes  to  pray  to  him.  Each  cares  for  his  own.  The  coy- 
ote will  not  take  up  the  children  of  the  rattlesnake ;  the  eagle  will 
not  give  his  meat  to  the  young  hawks.  It  is  light,  it  is  nature. 


AMONG    THE  AZTECS.  275 

Whylohay  (a  female,  by  the  way)  made  the  Navajoes  in  the  San  Juan 
Valley;  they  were  rich,  and  had  abundance  of  all  things.  But  one 
night  Chinday  dammed  the  San  Juan,  and  drowned  them  all.  Besides 
the  fish,  only  two  creatures  escaped;  the  snake  swam  ashore  and  the 
turkey  flew  up  to  a  peak  in  Colorado.  The  goddess  made  the  turkey 
into  another  man,  and  made  a  woman  from  a  fish,  and  from  these  two 
are  descended  all  the  present  Navajoes.  However,  this  may  be  only 
an  allegorical  statement  of  the  general  masculine  belief  that  the  sex 
divine  are  inclined  to  be  slippery  and  hard  to  catch. 

Women  after  death  change  to  fish  for  awhile ;  after  that  their  des- 
tiny seems  unsettled.  Because  of  this,  Navajoes  cat  neither  fish  nor 
turkeys.  The  snake  is  the  only  animal  that  knows  any  thing  about 
what  took  place  in  the  first  creation.  Hence,  Navajoes  seldom  or 
never  kill  one.  From  other  fish  Whylohay  recreated  the  animal 
kingdom.  The  turkey  was  made  from  a  fish  in  a  lake  covered  with 
foam,  which  lodged  on  his  tail  as  he  swam  ashore-;  hence,  the  white 
feathers  in  the  turkey's  tail.  White  men  after  death  go  up  into  the 
air;  Navajoes  go  down  through  Bat  Canon  and  into  the  earth. 
Thence  they  come  out  a  long  way  west,  on  the  edge  of  a  great  water. 
The  shore  is  guarded  by  terrible  evil  spirits  in  the  form  of  men,  but 
with  great  ears  reaching  from  above  their  heads  to  the  ground.  When 
asleep,  they  lie  on  one  ear  and  cover  with  the  other.  Whether  they 
ever  "  walk  off  on  their  ear,"  the  old  men  could  not  inform  me. 
Only  half  of  them  sleep  at  a  time,  and  the  Navajo  has  to  fight  his 
way  through  them.  If  he  is  brave,  and  has  treated  his  women  well, 
he  gets  through ;  then  the  goddess  takes  him  across  the  water.  There, 
like  the  white  man,  they  stop;  from  that  country  no  one  has  ever 
come  back,  to  say  what  is  there,  or  tell  us  about  the  climate. 

Their  women  are  often  quite  handsome;  but  like  barbarian 
races  generally,  they  sell  their  daughters  in  marriage.  Common  to 
average  can  be  had  for  property  to  the  value  of  $25 ;  prime  to  fine 
for  $50;  while  young  and  extra  go  at  $60,  the  standard  price  of  the 
Navajo  speckled  pony.  While  in  Canon  de  Chelley,  I  was  offered  a, 
beautiful  Miss  of  fifteen  for  $60,  or  the  horse  I  was  riding.  Perhaps 
I  should  have  closed  with  the  offer — it  is  so  much  cheaper  than  one 
can  get  a  wife  in  the  States.  Two  months  vigorous  courting  will  cost 
more  than  that — particularly  in  the  ice-cream  season. 

The  men  do  the  hardest  work,  in  the  fields  and  on  the  chase;  to 
the  women  is  left  the  weaving,  household"  work,  tending  the  herds 
and  grinding.  The  last  is  done  with  the  mitata — consisting  of  two 
flat  stones,  the  lower  stationary,  the  upper  rubbed  upon  it  with  the 


276  WESTERN   WILDS. 

band,  the  result  being  a  pasty  flour.  Of  this  and  water  they  make 
a  mixture  no  thicker  than  starch,  which  they  cook  on  hot  stones. 
The  fire  is  built  in  a  small  hole,  on  which  is  placed  the  flat  stone,  no 
more  than  an  inch  thick;  when  sufficiently  hot,  the  squaw  thrusts  her 
hand  into  the  starchy  solution,  and  rapidly  draws  a  handful,  which 
she  spreads  upon  the  stone.  In  a  half-minute  it  is  cooked  in  the 
form  of  a  brown  wafer,  no  thicker  than  card  board.  Another  and 
another  follows  till  they  have  a  layer  some  inches  thick,  which  is 
rolled  up  conveniently  for  carrying. 

They  are  the  only  wild  tribe  I  know  who  do  not  scalp  dead  ene- 
mies. They  never  had  that  practice.  In  fact,  they  never  touch  a 
dead  body,  even  of  their  own  people.  Each  hogan  is  so  constructed 
that  the  weight  rests  mostly  on  two  main  beams.  When  one  .dies  in 
a  hogan,  they  loosen  these  two  outside,  and  let  it  drop  upon  him.  If 
one  dies  on  the  plain,  they  pile  enough  stones  upon  him  to  keep  oif 
the  coyotes,  but  never  touch  the  body.  This  observance  is  a  serious 
drawback  in  one  respect:  it  prevents  them  from  building  permanent 
dwellings.  It  is  said  to  be  a  part  of  their  religion,  but  I  apprehend 
it  originated  during  some  plague,  when  contagion  resulted  from  touch- 
ing the  dead. 

One  surprising  fact  to  me  was  that  an  Indian  would  sunburn  by 
exposure  as  readily  as  a  white  man.  But  many  of  our  current  notions 
about  the  Indian  are  erroneous.  For  instance,  it  is  a  great  mistake 
to  suppose  they  can  travel  so  long  without  eating.  They  know  the 
country,  and  what  roots  are  nourishing  or  poisonous.  In  many  places 
over  this  section  between  the  two  Coloradoes  grows  a  species  of  milky 
weed,  with  tough,  stringy  root,  in  taste  resembling  the  "sweet  hick- 
ory "  the  boys  use  to  pull  and  chew,  along  the  Wabash.  The  Nava- 
joes  cook  this  in  boiled  milk,  or  with  bacon  when  at  home,  and  on 
journeys  without  supplies  take  it  raw.  They  get  poor  as  snakes  on 
such  food ;  but  it  does  keep  soul  and  body  together  for  awhile,  and 
prevent  the  deadly  faintness  resulting  from  complete  fasting.  But 
they  endure  thirst  much  better  than  we,  and  for  obvious  reasons. 
Their  food  contains  no  salt,  their  bread  no  chemicals ;  they  rarely  get 
intoxicating  liquors,  and  use  very  little  tobacco.  With  unsalted  bread, 
a  scant  indulgence  in  bacon,  and  coffee  night  and  morning,  I  soon 
found  I  could  go  half  a  day  without  water  with  no  inconvenience 
whatever.  I  also  tried  the  practice  of  riding  bareheaded,  and  found 
that  an  easy  accomplishment.  In  short,  though  it  takes  forty  years 
to  civilize  an  Indian,  I  am  positive  a  well-disposed  white  man  could 
ffo  wild  in  six  months. 


AMONG   THE  AZTECS.  277 

The  origin  of  the  venereal  poison  is  a  subject  much  discussed  by  the 
Indians.  Most  of  them  assert  that  they  had  none  of  it  till  the  Meli- 
canoes  came,  but  the  old  men  admitted  that  cases  were  introduced, 
many  years  ago,  from  Mexico.  The  Coyotero,  White  Mountain  and 
Mogollon  Apaches  have  never  had  a  case  of  it.  If  one  of  their 
women  offend  with  a  white  man,  her  nose  and  ears  are  cut  off,  and  she 
is  made  a  slave.  The  Moquis  appeared  quite  ignorant  of  the  exist- 
ence of  such  a  disease.  The  Tabequache  Utes  have  a  woman  publicly 
whipped  for  infidelity  with  whites.  If  she  be  found  diseased,  she  is 
forthwith  lanced  and  her  body  burned.  This  savage  quarantine  has 
effectually  preserved  the  tribe,  and  I  supposed  at  first  it  was  for  that 
purpose ;  but  the  Navajo  old  men  asserted  that  it  was  rather  as  an  act 
of  mercy  to  the  woman.  The  Mohaves  are  perishing  rapidly  from  this 
scourge.  The  Navajoes  claim  that  there  is  now  very  little  of  it  among 
them,  and  that  they  treat  it  successfully.  To  sum  up  on  my  Xavajo 
friends:  they  are  the  only  Indians  in  whom  I  could  ever  take  much 
interest,  and  I  am  confident  they  can  be  civilized,  and  that  the  "hu- 
manitarian policy"  will  be  a  success  as  applied  to  them. 

I  stop  four  days  with  the  Moquis ;  I  should  need  six  months  to 
learn  all  that  is  interesting  in  their  mode  of  life,  theology  and  social 
organization.  They  are  aboriginal  Quakers;  live  at  peace  with  all 
men,  and  have  a  horror  of  shedding  blood.  As  a  natural  consequence 
they  have  retreated  from  the  open  country,  and  now  occupy  this 
rocky  mole,  safe  from  the  hostility  of  mounted  Indians.  Who  are 
they?  Well,  this  is  one  of  those  things  no  fellow  can  find  out.  The 
conundrum  must  be  referred  to  that  large  class  relative  to  the  Mound- 
Builders  and  other  prehistoric  races  of  America;  for  it  is  self  evident 
that  the  semi-civilized  Indians  of  the  South-west  are  but  the  feeble 
remnants  of  a  long  series  of  races. 

The  three  towns  on  this  mesa  contain  about  a  thousand  inhabitants  ; 
and  are  known  as  Moqui,  Tegua,  and  Moquina.  (Mokee,  Taioah,  and 
Mokeena.)  A  little  way  westward  are  four  other  towns  of  the  same 
race:  Hualpec,  Shepalawa,  Oraybe,  and  Beowawa.  (Wattpake,  She- 
palawa,  Orybay,  and  Baowahwa.')  The  total  population  is  about  three 
thousand.  Their  houses  are  of  good  architectural  design,  built  of  flat 
stones  laid  in  white  cement,  plastered  neatly  inside,  and  whitewashed 
with  a  material  which  gives  a  hard,  smooth  polish.  The  lower  story 
is  not  as  high  as  a  man ;  but  that  they  occupy  only  in  winter.  On 
this  the  second  story  rises  ten  or  twelve  feet,  seldom  more  than  half 
as  wide  as  the  lower,  leaving  a  broad  margin  on  which  they  usually 
sleep.  The  first  story  has  no  doors  and  very  small  windows;  they 


278  WESTERN  WILDS. 

ascend  to  the  second  by  a  rude  ladder  or  stone  stairway  at  the  corner. 
The  better  class  have  carpets  of  sheep-skin,  and  all  have  them  to  sit 
on  ;  the  climate  is  too  dry  for  mold,  and  I  found  the  residences  very 
agreeable. 

The  people  are  exceedingly  kind  and  communicative.  When  the 
novelty  of  my  appearance  had  worn  away  a  little,  and  I  could  walk 
about  town  without  a  wondering  crowd  after  me,  I  rarely  turned 
toward  a  house  -without  receiving  the  welcome  wave  of  the  hand  to 
the  lips  and  breast,  with  the  words,  "Ho,  MeUcano,  messay  to;"  or 
sometimes,  as  many  know  a  few  words  of  Spanish,  "Entre:  Pasar 
adehmte."  Then  a  boy  or  girl  would  run  down  the  stone  staircase, 
and  extend  a  hand  to  steady  me  in  ascending.  They  took  me  into 
every  room  in  their  houses,  and  seemed  to  take  a  pride  in  exhibiting 
their  best  specimens  of  pottery,  wicker-jugs,  and  other  property.  Of 
their  children  they  were  particularly  demonstrative ;  and,  indeed,  they 
looked  well  enough.  I  did  not,  in  all  the  towns,  see  a  single  birth- 
mark, blotch,  or  deformity,  except  albinism.  Children  of  both  sexes 
go  entirely  naked  till  about  the  age  of  ten  years.  I  noted  one  curious 
fact :  the  little  ones  seemed  almost  as  white  as  American  children, 
till  the  age  of  six  months  or  a  year ;  then  they  began  to  turn  darker, 
and  at  ten  or  twelve  had  attained  to  a  rich  mahogany  color.  They 
play  for  hours  along  these  cliffs,  chasing  each  other  from  rock  to  rock 
at  that  dizzy  height,  and  yet  the  parents  seemed  surprised  when  I 
asked  if  accidents  did  not  happen. 

Their  mode  of  living  is  very  simple,  and  I  happened  upon  a  time 
of  unusual  scarcity.  The  general  drought  of  the  past  three  years  had 
cut  off  their  crops.  As  often  as  Chino,  the  Capitan  of  this  mesa, 
visited  me,  I  had  presented  him  a  tin  of  warm,  sweetened  coffee,  of 
which  they  are  very  fond,  and  which  was  the  only  thing  I  could 
spare;  and  had  partaken  Of  parched  corn  with  him  the  evening  of  my 
arrival,  when  I  received  a  special  invitation  to  dine  with  him  "  the 
day  before  I  left."  (People  with  weak  stomachs  may  skip  the  next 
paragraph.) 

They  breakfast  early,  and  dine  between  11  and  12.  Besides  Misi- 
amtewah,  a  sort  of  official  interpreter,  there  is  another  Moqui,  who 
speaks  Spanish  tolerably  well,  having  been  a  year  in  Tucson  and  Pres- 
cott;  and  both  were  at  dinner  with  us.  We  sat  upon  sheep-skins  on 
the  floor,  in  a  circle  around  the  earthen  bowls,  in  which  the  food  was 
placed.  The  staple  was  a  thick  corn  mush,  which  to  me  was  rather 
tasteless  for  the  want  of  salt.  The  regular  bread  of  the  Moquis  is  a 
decided  curiosity.  The  wheat  is  ground  with  mitats,  as  by  the  Nava- 


AMONG  THE  AZTECS.  279 

joes,  but  much  finer,  six  or  seven  women  grinding  together,  reducing 
the  flour  to  the  merest  dust.  It  is  then  mixed  as  thin  as  milk ;  the 
woman  cooking  dashes  a  handful  on  the  hot  stone,  where  it  cooks  al- 
most instantly,  and  conies  off  no  thicker  than  paper,  and  of  a  bright 
blue  color.  The  flakes  are  about  two  feet  long,  and  as  they  are 
stacked  two  or  three  feet  deep  on  the  platter,  look  remarkably  like  a 
pile  of  blue  silk.  They  raise  white,  blue,  and  red  corn ;  and  by  va- 
rious mixtures  produce  bread  of  seven  different  colors.  They  are  not 
as  clean  in  their  cooking  as  the  Navajoes,  and  it  is  hinted  that  they 
sometimes  mix  their  meal  with  chamber-lye  for  these  feslive  occa- 
sions ;  but  I  did  not  know  that  till  I  talked  with  Mormons  who  had 
visited  them. 

The  piece  de  resistance  was  the  hinder  half  of  a  very  fat  young  dog, 
well  cooked,  that  animal  being  the  favorite  food  of  the  Moquis.  It  is 
subject  to  greater  extremes  than  beef;  the  meat  of  an  old,  lean  dog  is 
very  tough,  and  that  of  a  fat,  young  puppy,  very  tender.  I  took  from 
my  own  store  a  box  of  sardines,  and  Misiamtewah  was  prevailed  upon 
to  eat  one ;  but  Chino  and  the  rest  rejected  them  with  horror. 
There's  gastronomic  prejudice  for  you!  This  man  is  sweet  on  dog, 
and  rejects  a  sardine  with  abhorrence.  My  Eastern  friends  take  sar- 
dines with  avidity,  but  their  gorge  rises  at  the  thought  of  dog,  while 
my  catholic  stomach  takes  dog  and  sardine  with  equal  impartiality. 
Parched  corn  completed  the  bill  of  fare,  with  beverage  of  goat's  milk. 
Both  the  Moquis  and  Navajoes  never  use  it  until  heated  almost  to  the 
boiling  point ;  but  after  one  cup  of  this,  I  requested  and  was  served 
with  mine  cold.  The  stove,  ingeniously  constructed  of  flat  stones,  is 
either  on  the  ground  just  beside  the  door,  or  on  the  roof,  of  the  first 
story,  by  the  door  of  the  second. 

With  my  Navajo  guide  and  Chino's  son,  we  formed  a  very  pleasant 
party  of  six,  and  had  quite  a  social  time.  The  second  interpreter 
informed  me  that  he  went  to  Prescott  with  Melicanoes  and  Mesh- 
icanoes,  and  that  they  named  him — it  was  probably  in  sport — 
Jesus  Papa  (Hay-soos  Pahpah.)  He  was  much  more  communicative 
than  Misiamtewah,  and  had  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  Americans.  To 
these  simple  people  I  represented  in  person  all  the  dignity  of  that 
great  nation,  of  whom  such  wonderful  reports  had  reached  them. 
And  here  I  must  own  to  a  little  deceit.  They  were  at  first  very  in- 
quisitive as  to  my  business,  and  could  not  imagine  why  a  white  man 
should  be  making  such  a  long  trip  with  only  Indians  for  companions. 
Savage  people  can  rarely  understand  that  intelligent  curiosity  which 
is  the  product  of  civilization,  and  suspect  some  ulterior  purpose  when 


280  WESTERN   WILDS. 

one  has  nothing  to  trade,  and  is  not  a  prospector  for  mines.     So  I  told 
them  I  was  collecting  information  about  the  friendly  Indians  for  the- 
use  of  government,  which  -may  be  passed  as  in  a  sense  true. 

The  Moquis  have  a  close  struggle  for  existence.  The  sand  sur- 
rounding the  mesa  presents  the  poorest  show  for  farming  I  ever  saw, 
yet  every-where  among  these  sand-hills  are  their  little  walled  fields, 
three  or  four  rods  square,  and  from  the  measure  Papa  showed  me,  I 
estimated  that  his  field  had  produced  what  would  amount  to  twelve  or 
fifteen  bushels  of  corn,  and  half  as  much  wheat,  to  the  acre.  The 
water  from  neither  of  the  springs  runs  more  than  ten  rods  before 
sinking  in  the  sand ;  but  in  some  places  they  have  constructed  little 
troughs  of  rock  or  wood  which  carry  a  stream  perhaps  as  big  as  one's 
finger  to  the  field,  and  help  the  case  a  little.  With  a  sharp  stick  they 
dig  a  hole  about  eighteen  inches  deep  through  the  top  sand,  which 
brings  them  to  a  moister  stratum,  in  which  they  lodge  the  grain. 
Around  the  hill  they  then  place  a  few  stones,  and  after  dressing  in 
clean  clothes,  sit  in  solemn  silence  for  hours  by  the  fields — supposed 
to  be  praying  for  rain.  If  no  rain  comes,  which  is  generally  the  case, 
they  carry  water  in  their  wicker-jugs  from  the  spring,  and  pour  a  pint 
or  so  on  each  hill.  If  the  season  is  favorable,  the  corn  grows  about 
two  feet  high,  and  yields  ten  to  fifteen  bushels  per  acre;  if  unfavor- 
able, they  get  nothing,  and  live  upon  goat's  milk  and  white  roots,  with 
a  rare  dessert  of  wild  fruit,  mescal,  or  game. 

I  said  "  supposed  to  be  praying,"  as  I  could  learn  of  no  religious  be- 
lief among  them,  though  their  Mormon  visitors  credit  them  with  be- 
ing very  pious.  I  explained  at  great  length  our  ideas  of  God  and 
nature,  and  asked  Papa  as  to  theirs,  with  this  result: 

Papa — Nothing!  (Nada.~)  The  grandfathers  said  nothing  of  Dios — 
what  you  say  Got — God  (making  several  attempts  at  the  word.) 

Myself — But,  say  to  me,  who  made  this  mesa,  these  mountains,  all 
that  you  see  here  ? 

P. — Nothing !     It  is  here. 

M. — Was  it  always  here  ? 

P. — (With  a  short  laugh) — Yes,  certainly,  always  here.  What 
would  make  it  be  away  from  here  ? 

M. — But  where  do  the  dead  Moquis  go?  Where  is  the  child  I  saw 
put  in  the  sand  yesterday  ?  Where  does  it  go  ? 

P. — Not  at  all.  Nowhere ;  you  saw  it  put  in  the  sand.  How  can 
it  go  anywhere  ? 

M. — Did  you  ever  hear  of  Montezuma  ? 

P. — No;  Monte — Montzoo — (attempting  the  word) — Melicano  man? 


AMONG  THE  AZTECS.  281 

M. — No  ;  one  of  your  people,  we  think.  What  are  these  dances  for 
that  you  have  sometimes? 

P. — The  grandfathers  always  had  them. 

So  ended  my  attempts  at  Moqui  theology.  Probably  they  were  too 
suspicious  of  a  stranger  to  let  me  know  any  thing  about  it,  for  an 
Indian  considers  his  religion  his  even  more  exclusively  than  his  "horse 
or  his  wife.  But  they  have  one  curious  custom  which  seems  to  have 
a  religious  significance.  Every  morning,  at  the  first  break  of  day,  a 
young  man  runs  the  whole  length  of  the  mesa  with  several  cow-bells 
tied  to  his  belt ;  the  entire  population  rise  at  once,  and  while  the  rest 
proceed  to  milk  their  goats,  the  bell-man  and  a  few  others  descend  to 
the  plain  and  go  a  mile  or  so  towards  the  east.  An  army  officer,  who 
spent  some  time  with  them,  says  they  expect  a  Deliverer  to  come  from 
that  direction,  and  send  an  embassy  to  meet  him.  Thus  the  Moquis, 
like  all  other  races,  look  for  One  to  usher  in  the  time 

"  When  useless  lances  into  scythes  shall  bend, 
And  the  broad  falchion  in  a  plowshare  end  ; 
When  wars  shall  cease,  and  ancient  fraud  shall  fail; 
Returning  Justice  lift  aloft  her  scale; 
Peace  o'er  the  world  her  olive  wand  extend, 
And  white-robed  Innocence  from  heaven  descend." 

Their  traditions  say  (or  in  their  own  phrase  "the  grandfathers 
said")  that  the  ruins  on  the  adjacent  mesa  were  once  the  homes  of  a 
powerful  race  of  Moquis,  arid  then  an  immense  spring  watered  all  the 
plain ;  but  an  earthquake  threw  down  the  pueblo,  split  the  rock,  and 
dried  up  the  spring,  and  the  remnant  of  that  people  went  far  to  the 
South.  Telashnimki  and  Tuba,  two  Oraybes,  husband  and  wife,  once 
accompanied  Jacob  Hamlin  to  Salt  Lake  City,  and  were  delighted  with 
all  they  saw.  Since  their  return,  a  portion  of  the  Oraybes  have  se- 
ceded from  the  main  body,  and  established  a  new  settlement,  to  which 
they  invite  white  men,  and  propose  more  friendly  relations.  The 
Moquis  pointed  out  Oraybe  in  the  distance;  but  did  not  think  it  safe 
for  me  to  visit  it,  as  the  Apaches  are  often  there.  The  Mormons  are 
establishing  friendly  relations  with  all  the  tribes  of  north-western  Ari- 
zona, and  will,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  succeed  in  peace  in  their  vicinity. 
One  question  frequently  asked  me  was,  "  Are  the  Mormoneys  Amer- 
icans ? "  A  plain  affirmative  was  near  enough  to  the  truth  for  the 
views  of  the  Indians ;  but,  in  point  of  fact,  the  question  is  open  to 
argument. 

The  dress  of  a  Moqui  man  consists  of  very  loose  jacket  and  draw- 
ers, made  of  calico  obtained  from  traders.  The  first  is  made  close  at 
the  neck,  and  flows  loosely  to  the  hips;  the  second  reaches  from  the 


282  WESTERN   WILDS. 

waist  to  a  little  below  the  knees.  Heavy  sandals  protect  the  feet. 
But  this  dress  is  only  conventional,  and  they  often  appear  entirely 
naked,  except  the  girdle  and  breech-clout.  The  women  wear  a  heavy 
Avoolen  dress,  of  their  own  manufacture,  consisting  of  a  single  skirt 
and  sort  of  half-waist,  which  leaves  one  arm  and  breast  bare.  Polyg- 
amy prevails  to  a  slight  extent.  Chino  and  Misiamtewah  each  have 
two  wives,  but  from  what  little  they  said  on  the  subject,  I  conclude 
they  consider  it  a  burden  rather  than  a  privilege.  The  women  are 
rather  homely,  short  and  stumpy — I  think  from  carrying  loads  upon 
their  heads.  None  of  them  will  compare  with  the  graceful  and  shapely 
Navajo  girls;  nor  are  they  prolific.  The  town  at  the  south  end  of  the 
mesa  is  slowly  falling  to  ruins ;  not  half  the  houses  are  inhabited,  and 
through  the  other  towns  there  are  many  abandoned  dwellings,  now 
used  for  stables  and  sheep-pens,  or  for  storing  hay.  The  kindly  law 
of  nature  will  not  permit  increase  in  a  country  which  can  only  furnish 
a  bare  living.  Moqui  means  "Dead  Man,"  and  Moquina  may  be 
translated  "  Little  Dead  Town."  This  is  the  half-abandoned  town  on 
the  south  end  of  the  mesa;  and  I  was  informed  by  Jacob  Hamlin  that 
some  five  years  before  my  visit  most  of  the  inhabitants  there  died  of 
small-pox. 

The  Tegua  town,  th^  one  we  first  enter  on  coming  up  the  cliff, 
has  a  language  quite  distinct  from  the  ordinary  Moqui.  Those  who 
have  examined  say  the  Tegua  is  the  same  as  that  spoken  by  the  Pu- 
eblos near  the  city  of  Mexico.  If  true,  this  is  a  most  important  fact, 
and  to  my  mind  goes  far  to  supply  the  missing  link  in  Baron  Hum- 
boldt's  history  of  the  Aztecs.  Governor  Arny,  of  Santa  Fe,  collected 
many  facts  on  this  subject,  but  whether  they  have  been  published  I 
know  not.  Among  these  people  are  many  albinoes,  with  sickly 
white  skin,  red  hair  and  pinky  eyes.  Many  romantic  stories  have 
been  told  as  to  the  origin  of  these  white  Indians,  the  most  sensational 
being  that  they  are  descendants  of  some  Scotchmen,  carried  away  by  the 
Spaniards  in  their  war  against  Queen  Elizabeth;  that  they  were  sent 
to  work  in  the  mines  of  Mexico,  escaped  in  a  body  and  joined  the 
Indians. 

The  un-romantic  truth  is,  they  are  Indians  as  much  as  the  others. 
Their  whiteness  is  simply  a  disease.  If  the  term  be  medically  cor- 
rect, I  would  call  it  a  species  of  American  leprosy.  We  need  not  go 
far  to  find  the  causes:  a  people  living  in  this  dry  climate,  on  hard, 
dry  food,  in  the  midst  of  burning  sands,  drought,  and  misery,  and 
shut  up  in  these  little  isolated  communities,  where  the  same  families 
have  intermarried  in  all  probability  for  a  dozen  generations.  The 


AMONG   THE  AZTECS.  283 

only  wonder  is  that  they  are  not  totally  extinct,  or  ring-streaked, 
speckled,  and  grizzled.  In  the  "good  old  time"  when  the  Pueblos 
were  ten  times  as  numerous,  intermarriages  took  place  between  the 
various  towns,  their  language  was  nearly  the  same,  and  they  were 
prolific  and  progressive.  Now  they  constitute  but  little  islands^  as  it 
were,  in  an  ocean  of  Utes,  Navajoes,  and  Apaches;  the  separated 
towns  have  gradually  grown  apart,  and  become  distinct  nations;  they 
have  no  central  priesthood  or  ecclesiastical  connection ;  their  religion 
and  learning  steadily  decay,  and  even  the  tradition  of  a  common  ori- 
gin is  fast  becoming  obscure. 

Perhaps  a  theory  as  to  the  origin  of  the  Pueblos  may  be  constructed 
by  a  system  of  comparative  ethnology  and  archaeology.  Beginning  in 
the  Ohio  Valley,  there  is  a  regular  line  of  ancient  works  down  to  the 
central  section  of  the  Andes.  The  Scioto  and  Licking  valleys  are 
thickly  dotted  with  the  works  of  some  race  to  whom  we  have  given 
the  vague  title  of  Mound-Builders.  There  is  the  great  circle  at  New- 
ark, which  now  incloses  the  fair-grounds;  the  square  and  circular 
fortification  near  Chillicothe  ;  the  Great  Serpent  in  Adams  County, 
1,000  feet  long;  the  funereal  mound,  fort,  and  intrenched  way  at 
Marietta,  and  hundreds  of  others  in  adjacent  districts.  There  is  the 
Pyramid  at  Seltzertown,  Mississippi,  six  hundred  feet  long  and  forty 
feet  high ;  and  two  thousand  other  mounds  and  fortifications  described 
by  Sqiiier  and  Davis  in  their  work,  an  authentic  document  published 
by  the  Smithsonian  Institution. 

But  as  we  go  south-west  the  ruins  are  larger  and  nearer  their  origi- 
nal condition.  Had  our  predecessors  built  of  stone  instead  of  wood, 
we  should  doubtless  have  found  such  in  Ohio.  There  are  the  great 
Casas  Grandes  on  the  Gila;  the  remains  of  the  original  or  Aztec  City 
of  Mexico ;  the  immense  pyramids  at  Xochicalco  and  Cholula ;  the 
City  of  Tulha,  ancient  capital  of  the  Toltecs,  and  a  regular  line  of 
ancient  cities  runs  down  through  Central  Mexico  and  into  Guatemala, 
from  which,  and  the  inscriptions  on  them,  we  learn  much  of  the  com- 
mon life  of  the  Aztecs  and  their  predecessors.  Every-where  there  are 
tumuli,  acecquias,  and  aguadas,  or  artificial  ponds.  Yucatan  is  dotted 
with  the  ruins  of  cities,  temples,  and  palaces.  The  great  forests  cov- 
ering a  large  part  of  Guatemala  and  adjacent  States,  an  area  the  size 
of  Ohio,  contains  the  key  to  America's  ancient  history.  There  is  con- 
clusive evidence  that  it  once  contained  from  five  to  ten  million  in- 
habitants. The  facts  are  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  Del  Rio,  who 
explored  part  of  it  in  the  last  century;  of  Captain  Dupaix,  who  pen- 
etrated far  enough  to  get  exact  measurements  of  the  largest  towns;  of 


284 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


Stephens  and  Catherwood,  and  of  Brasseur  de  Bourbourg,  last  and 
most  thorough  of  explorers.  The  most  important  places  mentioned 
are  as  follows : 

Palenque,  in  the  Mexican  State  of  Chiapas,  extends  for  fifteen  miles 
along  the  river  Chacamas ;  among  the  ruins  are  those  of  fourteen  large 

edifices,  handsomely  built 
of  hewn  stone.  "  The 
Palace"  has  a  raised  foun- 
dation, 40  feet  high,  310 
long,  and  260  wide;  on  it 
the  building  is  288  feet 
long,  180  wide,  and  25 
high,  with  fourteen  door- 
ways on  each  side,  and 
eleven  at  each  end. 
Copan,  in  the  western  part 
of  Honduras,  is  three  miles 
in  length,  and  contains 
stone  buildings  sixty  feet 
high,  richly  carved  with 
arabesque  designs.  Quiri- 
gtia  (Keereewah),  on  the 
river  Motagua,  consists  of 
a  vast  array  of  broken 
columns  and  monoliths, 
with  no  building  stand- 
ing. Mitla,  in  the  Mexi- 
can State  of  Oaxaca,  was 
evidently  built  in  splendid 
style,  but  only  three  buildings  remain  entire.  It  abounds  in  carved 
figures  and  relievos.  In  the  same  region  is  an  astronomical  monu- 
ment; on  it  the  sculptured  profile  of  a  man  holding  to  his  eye  a 
tube  which  is  directed  to  the  stars. 

But  Peru  contains  the  most  striking  monuments  of  the  ancient 
civilization.  There  once  flourished  a  proud  empire  extending  over 
twenty  degrees  of  latitude.  There  was  a  paved  road  five  hundred 
miles  long,  part  of  it  remaining  to  this  day.  Beautiful  monuments 
abound,  and  curious  manufactures  have  lately  been  unearthed.  There 
are  gauzy  articles  of  pure  gold,  so  light  that  a  breath  will  waft  them 
from  one's  finger.  There  are  fragments  of  the  qwppus — a  knotted 
cord  with  threads  of  various  colors,  with  which  they  kept  accounts. 


AZTEC  PRIEST  AND  WARRIORS. 


AMONG    THE  AZTECS.  285 

The  mummies  show  that  trepanning,  tooth-drawing,  and  amputation 
were  practiced.  They  had  timbrels,  stringed  instruments,  drums, 
flutes  and  trumpets.  Their  principal  city  was  supplied  with  water 
through  lead  pipes  inlaid  with  gold,  of  which  one  was  recovered 
entire,  and  now  supplies  the  Convent  of  Santo  Domingo.  But  the 
obscurity  hanging  over  their  history  seems  impenetrable.  It  is  proved 
that  this  ancient  people,  both  in  the  Ohio  Valley  and  further  south, 
must  have  had  a  tolerably  regular  government  and  a  good  system  of 
agriculture  to  sustain  a  dense  population;  that  they  were  often  at  war 
with  a  more  savage  people  than  themselves,  and  that  they  left  our 
country  at  least  five  hundred — more  probably  a  thousand — years  ago. 

A  score  of  theories  have  been  projected.  This  civilization  and 
these  ruins  have  been  in  turn  attributed  to  the  Assyrians,  Egyptians, 
Phoenicians,  "Lost  Tribes  of  Israel,"  Greeks,  Eomans,  Malays, 
Northmen,  and  the  Tartar  expeditions  sent  out  by  Kublai  Khan ;  but 
each  theory  has  in  turn  been  proved  untenable.  The  Book  of  Mor- 
mon tells  with  wearisome  details  how  an  Israelite  family  came  to 
America  six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  gave  rise  to  two  nations 
who  alternately  built  cities  and  battered  them  down  in  Avar,  and 
finally  the  white  half  became  extinct  and  the  others  turned  to  Indians ; 
and  Orson  Pratt  has  amplified  the  subject  in  a  number  of  works 
which  show  the  plausible  absurdities  of  the  astronomer  run  mad. 
Hence,  in  all  Mormon  literature,  the  Indians  are  spoken  of  as  "  Lam- 
anites" — whom,  for  their  wickedness,  "God  cursed  with  black  skins." 
But  the  average  Gentile  mind  is  not  equal  to  the  task  of  swallowing 
such  a  story. 

But  why  should  we  assume  that  these  people  came  from  the  Old 
World  ?  Is  all  civilization  necessarily  exotic  ?  There  is  nothing  in 
these  ruins  particularly  suggestive  of  Roman,  Greek,  or  Egyptian 
architecture.  We  see  in  China  that  a  spontaneous  civilization  arose 
and  ran  its  peculiar  course  without  any  aid  from  Europe.  In  Europe 
we  see  that  civilization  began  in  the  south  and  spread  towards 
the  north ;  that  it  was  overthrown  by  northern  barbarians,  again  rose 
in  the  south  and  spread  to  the  north.  The  latest  investigators  are  of 
opinion  that  a  similar  movement  took  place  in  America:  that  civili- 
zation originated  among  the  Colhuas  in  Peru  and  ancient  Mayas  in 
Yucatan ;  that  their  successors,  the  Toltecs,  carried  it  towards  the 
north;  that  in  the  latitude  of  Ohio  they  met  the  northern  barbarians 
and  were  slowly  driven  south,  where  civilization  revived  somewhat, 
and  was  again  a'dvancing  northward  when  the  Spaniards  came  and 
destroyed  it.  In  this  theory  the  Toltecs  are  set  down  as  our  Mound- 


286  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Builders,  and  it  is  concluded  that  the  last  of  them  left  the  Ohio  Val- 
ley a  thousand  years  ago.  There  is  a  vast  mass  of  evidence  confirma- 
tory of  this  view.  And,  incidentally  it  may  be  remarked,  that  a  Mr. 
Wiley,  of  Kinderhook,  Illinois,  in  the  year  1843,  did  discover  in  an 
ancient  mound  six  bronze  plates,  curiously  corresponding  to  the  de- 
scription given  by  Joe  Smith  of  those  from  which  the  Book  of  Mor- 
mon was  translated.  Many  impartial  critics  have  since  concluded 
that,  impostor  as  he  was,  Smith  did  obtain  from  a  mound  in  New  York 
some  kind  of  curious  plates.  The  entire  subject  has  been  strangely 
neglected  by  American  scholars.  The  finest  mound  in  Marietta  was 
sold  by  the  city  to  a  private  citizen,  who  carted  it  away  to  make  brick 
of!  In  a  similar  spirit  an  English  merchant  in  Greece,  who  needed 
some  marble  for  the  front  of  his  house,  tore  down  a  classic  pile  which 
had  survived  the  invasions  of  Thracian,  Roman,  Goth  and  Turk  for 
two  thousand  years.  But  there  is  yet  in  America  evidence  enough  for 
some  determined  antiquarian  to  decide  whether  the  Toltecs  were  our 
ancestors  in  Ohio. 

I  give  this  as  the  latest  theory.  As  for  myself,  I  grew  intensely 
interested  in  the  matter  from  what  I  saw  in  Arizona,  and  on  my  re- 
turn to  the  States  eagerly  embraced  the  first  opportunity  to  investi- 
gate. I  read  Baldwin's  "Prehistoric  America,"  and  was  only  half 
convinced;  I  consulted  Stephens  and  Catherwood,  Squier  and  Davis, 
and  got  facts  without  conclusions.  I  then  examined  all  the  authorities 
above  quoted,  and  finally  came  to  the  deliberate  conclusion  that  the 
whole  subject  is  considerably  mixed.  If  the  reader  don't  like  this 
theory,  he  has  my  permission  to  construct  one  of  his  own. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

FROM  MOQUI  TO  THE  COLORADO. 

IT  was  still  eight  hundred  miles  to  the  end  of  the  Thirty-fifth 
Parallel  Road.  But  universal  testimony  agreed  that  the  desert  grew 
worse  all  the  way,  till  one  should  cross  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  enter 
settled  California.  Nor  was  it  possible  to  go  unless  one  had  a  large 
party  well  armed.  It  was  but  three  hundred  miles  to  the  Mormon 
settlements,  and  some  four  hundred  farther  to  Salt  Lake  City.  That 
way,  then,  was  my  easiest  and  cheapest  route  out  of  the  wilderness. 

Navajo  parties  were  scattered  along  the  route,  and  we  should  doubt- 
less have  plenty  of  company.  My  guide  from  Defiance  returned  there, 
carrying  with  him  an  immense  roll  of  manuscript  which  I  had  pre- 
pared at  odd  hours  since  leaving  that  post.  He  left  Moqui  June  24th  ; 
Mr.  Keams,  agreeably  to  my  written  request,  sent  another  Indian 
on  to  Wingate  with  my  letters;  there  they  caught  the  semi-monthy 
military  express  to  Santa  Fe,  and  thus  my  communications  of  June 
24th  appeared  in  the  Cincinnati  Commercial  of  July  13th — a  marvel 
of  aboriginal  mail  service.  The  last  day  of  my  stay  at  Moqui,  came 
the  father  and  sister  of  my  new  guide,  the  former  en  route  to  Utah, 
and  the  latter  merely  on  a  friendly  visit  to  the  Moquis.  My  guide 
arrived  on  the  23d,  and  presented  his  nelsoass,  which  read  as  follows: 

"  To  all  whom  it  muy  concern  : 

"  The  bearer,  a  Navajo  Indian,  with  his  father,  have  permission  to  accompany  J.  H. 
Beadle,  Esq.,  to  the  Mormon  settlements.  They  are  good  Indians,  and  I  trust  any  one 
who  meets  them  will  treat  them  kindly. 

THOMAS  V.  KEAMS, 

Clerk  Navajo  Agency, 
June  21,  1872.  Acting  Agent." 

For  convenience  sake  I  christened  him  John,  the  universal  title 
for  Indians  and  Chinese. 

The  loud  rattle  of  the  Moqui  bellman  roused  me  betimes  on  the 
morning  of  the  25th,  and  immediately  I  heard  the  long  resonant  cry 
of  Chino  on  the  summit  of  the  highest  house,  chanting  the  order  of 
the  day's  work,  according  to  their  custom.  In  this  morning  call  he 
also  recites  any  special  events  expected  to  occur,  and  doubtless  set 
forth  my  intention  to  depart,  for  long  before  the  bellman  and  guard 

(287) 


288  WESTERN   WILDS. 

returned  from  the  plain  half  the  population  of  the  mesa  were  around  my 
domo  waiting  to  see  us  off.  No  "stirrup  cup"  this  time;  I  divided 
my  tobacco  with  Chino,  and  presented  him  the  only  linen  shirt  I  had 
with  me,  for  I  had  about  as  much  use  for  it  as  a  Highlander  has  for  a 
knee-buckle.  The  Moquis  do  not  use  money  in  any  form,  that  I  could 
see,  and  the  flowered  calico  I  had  taken  along  to  pay  expenses  with 
was  exhausted,  .as  the  people  had  been  most  kind  in  furnishing  goats' 
milk  and  eggs  and  carrying  in  blankets  full  of  grass  for  my  horse. 
Chino  presented  me  in  turn  with  a  huge  roll  of  mescal,  and  after  a 
warm  embrace — Moqui  good-bye — from  him  and  the  interpreters,  we 
mounted  and  were  off,  the  whole  population  joining  in  a  loud  song 
that  died  a,way  into  a  sort  of  wail  as  we  descended  the  rock-hewn 
gallery. 

"We  traveled  north-north-west  all  day,  through  a  somewhat  better 
country  than  that  east  of  Moqui;  good  bunch-grass  was  abundant,  and 
on  the  ridges  were  considerable  thickets  of  scrubby  pine.  In  the 
mountains  which  border  the  oval  valley  about  Moqui  there  are  many 
peach  trees;  the  Moquis  dry  the  fruit,  and  also  pound  up  the  seeds 
and  make  a  thick  paste  therefrom.  Mescal,  also  one  of  their  luxuries, 
looks  when  dried  like  a  mass  of  soft  sole-leather,  and  tastes  much  like 
ripe  sugar-cane.  It  is  slightly  cathartic,  and  is  a  good  change  from 
dry  bread  and  bacon. 

To  our  left  all  day  was  a  considerable  ridge,  and  by  expressive  pan- 
tomime and  a  few  Navajo  words  John  informed  me  that  west  of  it 
there  was  a  desert  with  neither  grass  nor  water,  which  horses  could 
not  cross  in  a  day,  but  we  should  go  around  the  north  end  of  it. 
About  4  P.  M.,  we  reached  the  first  pool,  and  refilled  our  canteen  and 
wicker-jug,  as  we  must  make  a  "dry  camp"  to-night.  Turning  to 
the  left  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge  in  an  hour's  hard  climbing, 
passed  a  dense  thicket  of  pines,  and  came  out  upon  a  splendid  pros- 
pect. The  cliff  we  stand  on  slopes  gently  for  a  hundred  yards,  then 
drops  suddenly  by  a  rugged  precipice,  a  thousand  feet,  to  a  plain 
which  stretches  north  and  west  as  far.  as»I  can  see.  But  to  the  north 
a  dim,  blue  range  appears,  and  this  side  of  it  a  dark  depression  with 
overhanging  mist,  which  may  be  due  to  the  great  distance  or  the  pres- 
ence of  water.  John  indicates  that  there  is  a  great  cliff  there,  three 
times  as  high  as  the  one  before  us,  at  the  bottom  of  which  there  is 
much  water  running  very  fast,  and  deeper  than  over  my  head  three 
times ;  but  it  is  as  far  as  we  could  travel  from  sun-up  till  the  middle 
of  the  afternoon,  and  horses  could  not  get  up  or  down  there  for  many 
days'  travel  cast  and  west.  This,  of  course,  is  the  Colorado. 


FROM  MOQUI  TO   THE  COLORADO.  289 

We  skirted  the  precipice  before  us  till  we  found  a  crevice  and  sort 
of  rocky  stairway,  by  which  we  got  down  to  the  plain,  and  thence 
traveled  nearly  straight  west  till  dark,  camping  on  a  ridge  with 
abundant  grass,  but  no  water.  After  supper  John  made  a  large  bon- 
fire to  signal  the  other  Navajoes,  but  we  received  no  answer.  We 
were  off  by  moonlight  next  morning — John  being  all  impatience  to 
overtake  another  party,  he  said  was  near;  and  in  three  hours  reached 
them,  but  they  proved  to  be  part  of  a  band  of  five  families  who  had 
moved  to  a  valley  there.  Here  we  find  the  only  living  spring  and 
running  stream  on  our  route.  The  valley  is  bounded  on  the  south  by 
an  abrupt  cliff,  not  more  than  six  hundred  feet  high,  and  on  the 
north  by  gently  sloping  hills,  rich  in  grass.  This  band  are  the 
wealthiest  Navajoes  I  have  yet  seen,  the  five  families  having  over  a 
thousand  sheep  and  goats,  and  at  least  two  hundred  horses.  Men  and 
women  have  each  a  good  riding  horse,  rather  elegantly  caparisoned, 
with  stylish  bridles  and  spurs,  and  in  their  camp  equipage  I  notice 
many  handsome  vessels  and  copper  kettles.  That  they  are  of  the 
aristocracy  is  further  proved  by  the  fact  that  they  did  not  loaf  about 
our.  camp,  or  ask  for  any  thing;  but  received  our  advances  with  civil 
dignity,  and  sold  us  half  a  gallon  of  milk  for  fifty  cents,  like  so  many 
Christians. 

Their  herds  were  just  coming  in  to  water:  their  horses  galloping 
down  the  cliffs,  the  mounted  Indian  boys  after  them  on  slopes  where 
an  American  would  scarcely  venture  his  horse  at  a  walk,  and  the 
sheep  and  goats  filling  the  vale  with  their  bleatings,  presented  a  scene 
to  delight  the  heart  of  a  pastoral  poet.  Two  horses  excited  my  par- 
ticular admiration :  a  heavy-limbed  dark  bay  mare,  and  a  bright 
chestnut  stallion,  light  and  swift,  who  galloped  around  us  a  few  times 
in  provokingly  showy  style,  his  sleek  coat  glistening  as  if  just  from 
the  hands  of  a  skillful  groom.  The  pair  would  have  sold  for  six  or 
seven  hundred  dollars  in  the  States. 

Our  horses  needed  recruiting  before  taking  the  desert,  and  we  con- 
cluded to  stop  a  day.  Buying  milk  and  dried  antelope,  we  had  quite 
a  breakfast  feast,  after  which  the  chief  and  family  came  and  took  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  a  smoke  with  me.  He  was  fluent  in  signs  and  ]Xa- 
vajo,  a  born  egotist,  and  as  inquisitive  as  the  stage  "Yankee."  The 
sign-language  proved  insufficient  for  him  to  tell  all  he  knew;  so  he 
went  toward  the  ciiff  and  shouted  for  Espanol,  and  soon  appeared  a 
bright  lad  of  about  twenty,  who  saluted  me  in  first-rate  Spanish,  act- 
ing thereafter  as  interpreter.  He  informed  me  he  was  captured  in  the 
beginning  of  the  last  war,  and  lived  with  the  Mexicans  six  years 
19 


290  WESTERN  WILDS. 

whence  his  Indian  name.  "The  Spaniard;"  that  he  had  driven  tcarn,° 
to  Denver,  and  been  on  the  railroad  from  there  to  Cheyenne,  and  con- 
sequently knew  all  about  the  Americans  and  their  ways.  The  chief 
then  struck  in  :  it  was  three  days  to  the  Mormoney  lioganda,  the  first 
one  where  we  would  cross  the  river;  his  horse  could  go  it  in  two,  but 
mine  could  not,  for  his  feet  would  not  stand  the  stones ;  his  horse  was 
better  than  my  horse,  and  he  could  travel  better  than  I ;  there  was 
sand  all  the  way  to  Mormoney,  no  more  springs,  and  only  water-holes 
in  the  rock.  In  answer  to  my  questions  about  the  country,  he  drew 
a  rude  map  in  the  sand  with  a  sharp  stick,  and  pointed  out  that  it  was 
nearly  a  day  north  for  my  horse  to  the  big  water,  and  two  days  south 
to  the  little  water;  that  four  days  west  they  came  together  so  (joining 
his  fingers  in  the  form  of  a  V),  and  that  three  days  north-west  of  that 
place  was  a  great  Mormoney  casa,  and  that  they  were  people  like  me, 
with  plenty  to  eat  and  many  horses. 

This  was  the  last  Navajo  settlement  I  visited,  though  they  range 
down  to  the  junction  of  the  two  Coloradoes  ;  and  in  the  evening  they 
made  our  camp  merry  with  their  lively  conversation.  Those  who  see 
the  Indian  only  on  the  border  know  nothing  of  his  real  character; 
for  it  is  only  the  lowest  and  meanest  of  the  race  that  hang  about  the 
white  settlements.  And  their  consciousness  of  oddity  in  appearance 
makes  them  feel  and  look  meaner.  These  belonged  to  a  portion  of 
the  tribe  numbering  a  thousand  or  more  who  do  not  agree  to  the 
treaty,  or  recognize  the  Agency  party.  They  are  quite  friendly  with 
the  whites,  but  have  made  one  raid  into  Utah  since  the  peace;  and  at 
John  D.  Lee's  I  learned  that  the  chestnut  stallion,  wrhich  so  excited 
my  admiration,  had  been  stolen  from  him.  Two  hundred  years  of 
war  with  the  Spaniards  was  surely  enough  to  confuse  a  people's  moral 
perceptions,  and  cause  them  to  consider  "levying  tribute"  on  the 
whites  as  a  perfectly  legitimate  operation. 

As  we  gather  up  in  the  evening  ready  to  start  early,  I  find  my 
Navajo  whip  and  knife  sheath — among  the  curiosities  I  had  purchased 
— missing.  I  had  not  supposed  that  John  knew  any  English,  but 
when  I  pointed  out  the  loss,  his  face  grew  dark  and  he  muttered: 
"Damn  Navajo,  shteal  mooch,"  and  darted  for  a  boy  some  fifty  yards 
uway,  whom  he  dragged  into  camp.  A  violent  discussion  ensued  till 
the  boy,  with  John's  grip  tightening  on  him,  pointed  to  the  cliff  and 
muttered  "  Espafiol."  "  Damn  Espailol,  shteal,"  said  the  guide,  and 
ran  up  the  cliff,  where  I  heard  another  violent  altercation,  Navajo 
words  mingling  amusingly  with  English  and  Spanish  oaths,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  John  returned  waving  the  whip  and  sheath  in  triumph. 


FROM  MOqUI  TO   THE  COLORADO.  291 

The  Navajocs  will  steal,  but  if  you  hire  one  he  will  guard  your 
property  against  all  the  rest,  in  which  respect  they  are  better  than  any 
other  Indians.  As  I  made  ready  for  early  sleep,  Espafiol  and  other 
lads  came  down  on  a  visit,  and  sat  about  the  fire  smoking  our  tobacco 
and  talking  as  socially  with  John  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  hap- 
pened. 

All  day,  June  27th,  we  traveled  in  a  succession  of  zigzags.  Two 
miles  down  the  valley  we  found  it  narrowed  to  a  rugged  cafion ;  a 
little  farther  the  canon  became  a  fearful  gorge,  into  which  sunlight 
never  penetrated.  The  stream  disappeared  but  a  few  rods  below  the 
spring,  but  a  scant  growth  of  sickly  cottonwoods  showed  there  was 
still  a  moist  stratum  below.  At  length  we  came  to  a  rift  in  the  side 
wall,  about  a  rod  wide,  into  which  John  led  the  way;  there  we  en- 
tered on  a  steep  and  dangerous  trail,  up  which  we  toiled  some  hun- 
dreds of  feet  to  a  level  sandstone  mesa.  Across  this  a  few  miles,  and 
then  John,  ahead  of  me,  suddenly  disappeared,  and  I  hurried  up  to 
find  him  going  down  another  narrow  gorge,  a  mere  rift  in  the  rock 
not  twenty- five  feet  wide.  Down  this  a  mile  brought  us  out  on  a 
sandy  plain ;  across  this  some  five  miles,  and  we  came  to  a  perpendic- 
ular cliff  at  least  a  thousand  feet  high.  Skirting  this  westward,  a 
few  miles  brought  us  to  another  gorge,  by  which  we  again  reached  the 
summit  of  the  mesa,  and  before  noon  found  a  depression  in  the  rock 
which  had  been  filled  by  a  late  rain,  and  around  it  enough  bunch- 
grass  for  a  noon  halt.  There  we  were  overtaken  by  a  Navajo  lad  of 
about  fifteen  years,  who  had  reached  Moqui  the  day  after  we  left,  and 
followed  our  trail.  He  had  several  fine  blankets,  woven  by  his 
mother,  and  expected  to  trade  them  for  a  horse  at  the  Mormoney  casa. 
We  made  a  "  dry  camp  "  for  dinner,  took  an  hour's  grazing,  and  were 
just  off  when  up  galloped  Espafiol,  also  with  a  few  blankets.  He 
had  concluded,  an  hour  after  we  left,  to  go  to  the  settlements ;  because, 
as  I  suspect,  he  had  noted  the  size  of  my  provision  sacks.  We  were 
now  four  in  number,  and  traveled  the  rest  of  the  day  on  a  sandstone 
ridge  tending  west-north-west.  Far  as  I  could  see,  the  country  ap- 
peared to  slope  from  this  ridge  northward  and  southward  towards  the 
two  Coloradoes. 

About  5  P.  M.,  we  reached  a  regular  water  hole,  to  find  it  dry — to 
the  dismay  of  the  Navajoes.  After  a  brief  consultation,  Espanol 
informed  me  they  would  hurry  on  down  the  slope,  south-west,  and  find 
water  on  the  other  side  of  the  next  valley ;  and  that  I  might  follow 
their  tracks,  poco-poco-poco,  (moderate  walk).  They  galloped  off,  and 
were  soon  out  of  sight.  I  followed,  and  in  an  hour  had  lost  their 


292  WESTERN   WILDS. 

trail  on  a  sandstone  flat.  Still  I  maintained  the  course  toward  a 
bright,  green  valley,  which  now  appeared  in  the  distance.  I  reached 
and  crossed  it,  to  find  that  the  green  was  not  from  grass,  as  I  had 
supposed,  but  from  thrifty  greasewood.  There  was  not  a  spear  of 
grass  nor  a  drop  of  water,  though  the  shade  of  green  on  the  brush 
showed  there  was  moisture  below;  and  not  a  horse-track  or  a  Navajo 
in  sight.  I  began  to  feel  very  uncomfortable.  The  prospect  of  being 
lost  in  that  place  was  decidedly  unpleasant.  I  fired  my  gun  two  or 
three  times,  and  shouted  with  all  my  might,  but  no  response.  De- 
termined finally  to  ascend  the  ridge  west  and  overlook  as  much 
country  as  possible,  I  struck  up  a  sloping  hollow,  and  in  half  a  mile 
came  upon  the  three  Navajoes  sitting  round  a  deep  pool  of  water  and 
grinning  in  concert.  The  aborigines  had  witnessed  all  my  embarrass- 
ment, and  attempts  to  trace  them  below ;  but,  true  to  the  "  noble 
instincts"  of  the  race,  preferred  to  sit  and  smile  at  me  working  out 
my  own  salvation. 

The  horses  could  not  get  down  in  the  water  hole,  so  they  had  taken 
a  blanket  full  of  sand  and  made  a  dam  across  a  little  depression  in 
the  rock  ;  this  we  rapidly  filled  wTith  our  wicker-jugs,  and  so  enabled 
our  horses  to  drink.  At  6  o'clock  we  were  off  again,  and  at  8  made 
a  "  dry  camp."  I  soon  went  to  sleep,  but  woke  in  an  hour  or  so  to 
find  that  the  Navajoes  had  built  an  immense  bonfire  on  a  hill  near  by. 
This  was  soon  answered  by  another,  apparently  twenty  miles  to  the 
south.  Our  party  then  took  torches  of  pine  limbs  and  waving  them 
as  they  went,  built  three  more  fires  in  a  line  a  little  north  of  west. 
The  other  party  responded  with  three  fires  in  a  line  apparently  due 
west.  Espanol  translated  this  to  mean  that  a  considerable  party  of 
Navajoes  were  half  a  day's  ride  south  of  us;  that  they  would  go 
straight  on  west,  crossing  the  Little  Colorado,  and  we  should  not  meet 
them. 

Again  we  were  oif  by  moonlight,  an  hour  ahead  of  the  sun,  and  at 
10  A.  M.  reached  the  promised  water-hole;  but  it  contained  only  a 
little  mud.  Hastily  consulting  together,  the  Indians  rubbed  their 
fingers  in  the  moist  sand  and  held  them  up  in  the  air.  From  this 
experiment  they  decided  that  the  late  rain  had  not  extended  to  this 
region;  that  this  pool  had  been  exhausted  but  a  day  or  two,  and  there- 
fore water  would  be  plenty  in  a  hole  some  fifteen  miles  north,  which 
always  held  out  a  week  longer  than  this.  Espanol  told  me  to  follow 
poco-poco  as  before ;  that  as  his  horse  was  fresh,  he  would  hurry  on 
to  the  pool,  and  come  back  with  two  jugs  full  to  meet  me.  I  was 
soon  alone,  and  had  a  weary  ride  of  some  twelve  miles  over  a  hot 


FROM  MOQUI  TO   THE  COLORADO.  293 

sand  plain ;  then  met  Espanol  with  water  enough  for  me  and  a  hatful 
for  my  horse.  They  had  decided  to  dine  at  this  pool,  which  we  found 
a  few  miles  further  on. 

In  these  wastes  it  is  only  in  a  few  holes,  worn  by  ancient  bowlders, 
or  in  the  more  rare  limestone  "  pockets,"  that  one  can  find  water ;  and 
one  unacquainted  with  the  country  might  go  within  a  rod  of  such  a 
pool  and  never  find  it.  The  boys  had  only  a  few  pounds  of  dried 
antelope  and  parched  corn  •  but  all  we  had  was  in  common,  and  we 
rested  and  feasted  an  hour.  Thence  we  bore  due  west  to  come  upon 
our  former  trail,  and  soon  descended  into  a  rich  bunch-grass  pasture 
at  least  ten  miles  wide.  Far  southward  a  mountain  peak,  its  summit 
dazzling  white  with  snow,  rose  in  the  form  of  a  sharp  cone;  and 
Espanol  informed  me  that  from  the  foot  of  that  peak,  there  was  much 
timber  and  game  to  the  Little  Colorado ;  also,  that  when  the  first 
snow  fell  on  the  lower  hills,  the  antelope  and  other  animals  came 
across  into  this  grassy  country  by  thousands ;  then  the  Navajoes 
went  on  their  fall  hunt,  and  used  to  meet  the  Apaches  here  long  ago, 
and  had  many  fights.  But  now  the  Apaches  have  given  up  this  sec- 
tion. We  soon  came  to  where  skulls  were  quite  numerous,  sometimes 
with  other  fragments  of  human  bones.  My  companions  called  atten- 
tion to  the  difference  between  those  of  the  two  tribes;  and  when  we 
came  upon  five  skulls  in  one  place,  two  Navajo  and  three  Apaches, 
Espanol  said  with  a  grin:  "  Todos  muertos,  pero  mas  Apaches"  (All 
killed,  but  the  most  Apaches).  In  the  dry  climate,  on  that  sandy 
soil,  the  skulls  may  have  lain  there  fifty  years. 

We  passed  this  and  another  sandstone  ridge,  on  the  west  side  of 
which  we  found  a  little  depression  with  some  five  acres  of  good  grass, 
and  made  a  "dry  camp."  The  dark  cavity  and  blue  mist  over  the 
Colorado  had  been  visible  all  the  afternoon,  and  John  decided  that 
we  should  descend  the  first  cliff  and  go  to  the  nearest  spring  before 
breakfast.  We  were  off  next  morning  by  daylight,  in  a  sweeping 
trot,  and  in  an  hour  I  heard  from  Espafiol,  in  the  lead,  the  glad  cry 
of'El  monte!  Grande  agua!"  and  hurried  up  to  the  cliff;  but  at  the 
first  view  recoiled.  Before  us  was  an  abrupt  descent  of  some  3,000 
'  feet ;  then  a  plain  some  three  miles  wide,  led  to  an  abrupt  and  narrow 
gorge,  2,000  feet  deep,  at  the  bottom  of  which  rolled,  in  forbidding 
whirlpools  and  rapids,  the  red  and  yellow  waters  of  the  Colorado. 
Notwithstanding  the  great  distance,  so  far  did  it  lie  below  me  that  in 
some  of  the  turns  I  could  see  the  whole  width  of  the  stream.  On  the 
opposite  side  was  a  similar  succession  of  cliffs,  red  and  yellow  sand- 
stone, and  seeming  even  more  rugged.  How  on  earth  were  AVC  ever 


294 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


to  get  down  ;  or,  once  down,  get  out  again?  John  smiled  at  my  look 
of  dismay,  and  indicated  our  route  down  a  narrow  gulch,  breaking 
into  the  cliff  near  us,  which  it  seemed  to  me  certain  destruction  to 
enter. 

Off  horses,  girths  tightened,  and  packs  carefully  examined ;  then 
walking  behind  the  animals,  with  lariats  attached  to  the  bridle  and 
trailed  over  their  backs,  we  ventured  on  the  descent;  John  in  front 
shouting  directions,  the  boy  next  repeating  them,  and  Espanol  third 
translating  them  to  the  writer,  who  cautiously  brought  up,  or  rather 

brought  ,doum,  the  rear.  I 
had  made  up  my  mind  to  this 
at  first  glance;  for  if  either 
horse  should  conclude  to  go 
with  a  ricochet,  sweeping  all 
below  him,  I  thought  two  or 
three  Indians  could  be  better 
spared  than  one  white  man. 
The  narrow  path  wound 
this  way  and  that,  to  every 
point  of  the  compass,  reduc- 
ing the  main  incline  of  sev- 
enty degrees  or  more  to  a 
series  with  a  slope  of  forty- 
five  or  less;  at  times  away 
into  the  hill,  and  again  on 
the  outward  turn,  around  the 
projecting  peaks.  The  dan- 
ger is  less  than  it  seems;  as 
if  one  fell,  he  would  be  caught 
by  the  next  offset,  but  a  few 
feet  below.  Sometimes  we  found  a  square  offset  in  the  path  of  two 
feet  or  so,  when  the  horses  would  carefully  drop  the  fore  feet,  having 
abundant  room  to  catch,  and  bring  the  hind  feet  down  with  the 
caution  of  an  acrobat.  Two  hours  brought  us  to  the  plain,  when  we 
heard  a  shout  that  seemed  in  mid  air  above  our  heads,  and,  looking 
up,  saw  three  more  Navajoes  on  the  descent.  They  looked  like  some 
species  of  animal  clinging  to  the  cliff. 

We  reached  the  promised  spring  and  found  no  water.  The  Nava- 
joes insisted  there  was  some  in  the  gulch,  so  we  hunted  along  it  to- 
ward the  mountain  till  we  found  a  little  moist  sand  and  green,  watery 
grass;  there  we  fell  to  with  our  tin-cups  and  butcher-knives  and  dug 


DOWN  THE  CLIFF. 


FROM  MOQUI  TO   THE   COLORADO. 


29; 


several  holes,  which  soon 
filled.  The  water  was  cool, 
but  tasted  like  a  mild  infu- 
sion of  Epsom  salts.  It 
made  coffee,  but  all  the  su- 
gar it  would  dissolve  did 
not  sweeten  it  perceptibly. 
Along  the  cliff,  in  a  north- 
east direction,  every  mile  or 
so  a  section  of  the  lower  cliff 
seemed  to  leave  it  and  bend 
back  to  join  the  upper  one, 
and  down  these  "  benches  " 
we  slowly  worked  our  way. 
When  no  more  than  a  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  stream 
we  came  upon  an  abrupt 
ridge,  at  least  two  thousand 
feet  high,  putting  out  to  the 
river  and  completely  shut- 
ting off  the  trail  in  that  di- 
rection. Over  this  we  must 
go.  But  first  we  climbed  to 
a  little  cave  at  the  foot  of 
the  perpendicular  cliff,  in 
which  we  found  a  "  pocket " 
of  cool,  clear  water.  The 
path  turned  south-east,  and, 
walking  in  front  of  our 
horses,  we  again  commenced 
climbing.  It  was  the  worst 
job  we  had,  and  defies  de- 
scription. The  Navajoes 
were  an  hour  ahead  of  me 
when  I  reached  the  sum- 
mit; but  there  was  only  one 
trail,  and  that  a  plain  one. 
The  opposite  side  of  this 
ridge  broke  into  a  dozen 
pointed  spurs.  Out  one, 
down  a  slight  slope  and  into 


'CLIMBED  TO  A  LITTLE  CAVK    IN  WHICH    WE 
V/ATJiE.'; 


296  WESTERN   WILDS. 

a  groove  in  the  rock,  I  found  the  trail  leading  along  back  into  the  hol- 
low;  then  out  another  ridge  and  back  into  the  second  hollow;  then 
back  again  around  all  the  windings  of  the  two  hollows,  and  I  found 
myself  on  the  sharp  end  of  the  first  ridge  again,  but  in  a  groove  five 
hundred  feet  below  the  one  where  I  had  left  it.  Around  this  peak  I 
followed  to  the  south-west,  then  back  and  forward  till  I  was  dizzy, 
and  more  times  than  I  could  count.  I  came  out  at  length  upon  a 
gentle  slope,  which  brought  me  down  to  the  plain  at  a  point  where  the 
river  was  running  nearly  straight  north.  It  was  3  P.  M./and  when 
I  looked  back  upon  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  which  Mre  left  at  sun- 
rise, it  seemed  but  a  mile  or  two  away.  But  it  was  at  least  5,000  feet 
above  us, 

We  shouted  and  fired  guns,  but  in  vain.  We  saw  the  house  on  the 
opposite  side,  and  people  moving  about,  but  they  failed  to  take  notice 
of  us.  John's  father  and  two  other  Navajoes  soon  arrived,  having 
killed  a  young  antelope  on  the  way.  The  meat  at  this  season  was 
very  tough  and  hard,  but  if  we  were  to  stay  here  long,  it  must  serve  as 
our  substitute  for  bread.  We  were  nearly  out  of  provisions ;  the  sand 
flat  contained  nothing  for  our  horses,  and  we  must  cross  soon.  So 
early  next  morning  we  commenced  hunting  for  drift-timber,  the  boys 
climbing  over  the  sharp  ridge  which  rose  a  hundred  feet  higk,  just  be- 
low us.  A  shout  of  surprise  brought  me  to  that  side,  and  I  saw  the 
boys  had  discovered  a  boat  cached  against  a  rock  and  covered  with 
brush,  leaving  only  the  bow  visible.  They  rigged  an  arrangement  to 
let  me  down  with  lariats,  where  they  had  climbed,  and  we  all  went 
to  work  on  the  boat.  In  three  hours  we  had  it  out  of  the  sand  and 
brush  and  into  the  river;  then  the  Navajoes  were  clamorous  for  me 
to  make  an  immediate  trial  of  crossing.  But  we  found  no  oars.  The 
boat  was  eighteen  feet  long,  with  places  for  four  rowers;  it  had  two 
compartments,  and  on  the  stern  was  the  name  "  Emma  Dean."  I 
concluded,  correctly,  as  it  proved,  that  it  was  one  of  Major  Powell's. 
But  all  our  search  brought  to  light  no  oars.  They  were  cached  so 
effectually  that  even  Navajoes  could  not  find  them.  I  explained  to 
the  boys  that  only  a  mile  or  two  below  there  was  a  cataract,  and,  to 
attempt  the  passage,  we  must  haul  the  boat  up  stream  at  least  a  mile. 
I  judged  they  would  never  get  the  boat  around  the  first  point,  as  the 
rocky  headland  overhung  the  river  at  a  height  of  sixty  feet  or  more, 
under  which  the  bend  threw  the  full  force  of  the  current  in  danger- 
ous whirls. 

But  they  fell  to  work  at  once,  and,  by  a  most  ingenious  arrange- 
ment of  lariats,  brought  the  boat  around.  Meanwhile  the  two  old 


FROM  MOqUl   TO   THE  COLORADO.  297 

men  with  their  butcher-knives  had  hacked  out  rude  oars  from  drift- 
wood, and  all  were  clamorous  for  me  to  cross  at  once.  They  could 
not  understand  why  a  Melicano,  who  professed  to  understand  rowing, 
should  hesitate.  But  I  did  not  like  to  risk  it.  The  very  aspect  of 
the  place  frightened  me:  the  lofty  walls  inclosing  a'cafion  six  or  seven 
thousand  feet  deep;  the  rocky  face,  red  and  scarred  as  if  blasted  by 
angry  lightnings;  the  bare  sand-plain,  and  the  swift  river  roaring 
against  projecting  rocks,  all  looked  very  different  from  the  placid  Wa- 
bash  and  Ohio,  where  I  learned  rowing.  A  mile  above,  the  up- 
per and  lower  cliff  appeared  to  run  together,  with  an  offset  of  but  a 
rod  or  two,  and  there  the  sheer  descent  from  the  plateau  to  the  river 
was  at  least  six  thousand  feet — almost  perpendicular.  I  fixed  my  eye 
on  pieces  of  drift-wood  to  measure  the  current ;  it  was  a  little  more 
than  twenty  minutes  from  the  time  they  came  in  sight  above  till  they 
entered  the  rapids  below.  How  could  I  hope  to  paddle  across  in  less 
than  twenty  minutes  ? 

It  was  1  P.  M.,  and  we  had  the  boat  at  our  camp  and  two  rude  oars. 
I  took  my  coffee  and  sardines,  chewed  mescal  reflectively  for  half  an 
hour,  and  then  proposed  to  the  boys  that  we  make  our  blankets  into 
horse-collars  and  lariats  into  gears,  and  haul  the  boat  across  the  point. 
The  bend  above,  I  had  noticed,  would  throw  it  offshore,  and  with  the 
aid  of  an  eddy  put  us  half  way  across.  They  objected  decidedly  :  the 
horses  would  kick  each  other,  and  forty  other  evils  to  their  property 
would  result.  Ignorant  as  they  were  of  that  element,  they  much  pre- 
ferred taking  it  by  water.  Their  own  lives  and  limbs  they  were 
ready  to  risk ;  but,  said  Espanol,  their  horses  were  their  wealth — did 
I  ask  them  to  go  home  poor?  They  had  evidently  adopted  the  sound 
philosophy  that  life  without  some  property  is  not  worth  caring  for. 
So  to  the  river  we  betook  ourselves,  though  to  me  the  case  looked 
hopeless.  The  bank  was  so  steep  that  it  could  only  be  descended  once 
in  two  or  three  hundred  feet,  and  overgrown  thickly  nearly  all  the 
way  with  willows  and  thorny  bushes,  often  twenty  feet  out  into  the 
water.  The  rope  could  not  be  dragged  over  these ;  it  had  to  be  passed 
outside  of  them,  taking  advantage  of  a  bare  point  to  haul  in,  rest  and 
make  a  fresh  start.  The  four  young  fellows  stripped  and  took  to  the' 
water.  I,  in  the  same  condition,  sat  astride  the  bow  and  shoved  off 
shore.  They  would  drag  the  boat  to  a  convenient  point,  then  take 
the  rope  in  their  mouths  and  pass  themselves  around  the  willows, 
holding  by  their  hands  with  bodies  in  the  water.  A  most  ridiculous 
sight  it  would  have  been  to  one  free  from  our  solicitude :  the  naked 
barbarians  plunging  and  scrambling  in  the  river,  the  naked  white 


298  WESTERN   WILDS. 

man,  almost  barbarous  for  the  occasion,  sitting  astride  the  bow  shout- 
ing in  wretched  Spanish  and  mixed  Navajo,  and  sometimes  plunging 
into  the  shore-mud  or  swift  stream,  where  a  little  swimming  had  to  be 
done.  "We  would  toil  until  steaming  with  sweat,  and  then  into 
the  river,  which  felt  like  ice- water.  Nobody  ever  "catches  cold"  in 
this  country,  or  I  should  have  expected  a  musical  case  of  asthma  and 
catarrh  as  a  result.  In  the  middle  of  our  work  a  woman  came  to 
the  opposite  bank,  but  the  wind  had  risen  to  such  a  blast  that  we 
could  not  converse,  and  I  could  barely  make  out  the  words,  "  old 
man,  to-morrow." 

At  night  the  wind  fell ;  the  woman  reappeared,  and  shouted  that  in 
three  days  the  "  old  man "  would  return  ;  if  we  had  provisions  it 
would  be  safest  to  wait.  Next  morning  our  horses  presented  fine  sub- 
jects for  the  study  of  anatomy.  We  must  risk  it;  so,  taking  John 
and  Espanol,  I  shoved  off',  and,  taking  advantage  of  an  eddy,  reached 
the  opposite  side  only  a  mile  below.  Making  our  way  to  the  house, 
I  was  greeted  by  the  woman  with  : 

"  My  God,  stranger,  did  you  risk  your  life  to  swim  that  river  ?" 

An  explanation  and  request  for  provisions  resulted  in  the  statement : 
"  We  are  pretty  thin  ourselves."  If  we  had  put  up  a  white  signal 
Saturday,  "  the  old  gent  would  have  come  down  at  once,  but  he 
thought  it  was  only  Injins.  Had  gone  Sunday  with  his  other  woman 
to  the  ranche  near  Kanab.  These  were  the  other  woman's  four  chil- 
dren here  ;  had  five  of  her  own,  making  a  right  smart  family  of  nine, 
'thout  the  old  gent,  but  none  of  'em  big  enough  to  risk  the  boat; 
had  no  meat,  and  only  ten  pounds  o'  flour,  but  plenty  of  milk,  butter, 
cheese  and  eggs — would  they  do  ?"  I  rather  thought  they  would,  and 
requested  that  about  five  pounds  of  each  might  be  served  up  at  once. 
She  got  me  a  splendid  breakfast,  and  gave  the  Indians  a  plentiful 
supply,  lending  them  also  a  kettle.  She  gave  me  the  oars  with  which 
we  could  cross  at  will ;  but  to  cross  the  horses  we  must  wait  till  "  Ma- 
jor Doyle,"  as  she  named  the  "  old  man,"  came  back. 

Two  days  passed,  and  our  horses  were  hungry  enough  to  chew 
sand-burrs  and  desert  weed.  The  days  I  spent  at  the  cabin,  talking 
to  •  the  Mormon  woman  ;  the  nights  on  the  other  side,  sleeping  or 
listening  to  the  old  man's  stories  about  his  people.  They  were  all  of  a 
piece:  the  Navajoes  had  been  very  rich — they  were  now  poor;  they 
were  great  warriors  and  good  Indians.  But  the  Utes  were  dogs,  and 
the  Apaches  wolves  and  snakes,  and  the  Zunis  ground-hogs,  and  the 
Mclicanoes  never  would  have  whipped  the  Navajoes  if  they  hiul  not 
got  other  Indians  to  help  them.  In  short,  his  harangue  sounded  so 


FROM  MOQUI  TO   THE  COLORADO.  299 

much  like  an  ordinary  Mormon  sermon — all  self-glorification  and  dis- 
paragement of  every  body  else — that  I  got  tired  and  dropped  to  sleep 
just  as  he  was  telling  how  great  a  warrior  his  father  was,  and  how 
many  horses  he  once  took  from  the  Noch  kyh  (Mexican  towns). 

As  Espanol  rendered  all  this  into  voluminous  Spanish,  with  many 
cross-questionings  on  my  part  and  repetitions  on  his,  to  make  sure  I 
had  the  correct  meaning,  the  conversation  would  have  had  its  charms 
to  the  comparative  philologist.  Sitting- in  the  summer  night  by  our 
camp-fire  on  the  great  river,  named  by  the  Spaniard  three  centuries 
ago,  its  current  roaring  against  the  rocks  below  us,  part  of  the  ro- 
mance of  the  sixteenth  century  seemed  to  return — that  romance  made 
real  by  the  lingual  contest  between  the  Navajo  and  Spanish  languages. 
It  is  scarcely  possible  there  should  be  a  greater  contrast  between  any 
two  tongues  spoken  by  man — the  one  the  oldest  of  living  languages, 
and  first  heir  to  the  Latin,  no  one  knows  how  much  older;  soft, 
smooth,  flowing,  musical  and  rich  in  expressive  inflections;  the  result 
of  three  thousand  years  of  Roman,  Moorish  and  Gothic  cultivation ; 
with  the  wonderful  and  stately  march  of  the  Latin  sentence,  the  soft 
lisp  of  the  Moor  and  sonorous  gravity  of  the  Goth  :  the  other,  young- 
est born  in  the  family  of  languages,  with  roots  striking  only  in  the 
shallow  soil  of  hard  and  primitive  dialects,  probably  not  a  thousand 
years  old  as  a  separate  tongue ;  without  cultivation,  without  letters, 
with  no  abstract  expressions,  and  names  only  for  the  material  and 
tangible,  a  harsh  alliance  of  the  nasal  and  guttural,  the  speech  .of 
barbarous  mountaineers.  Yet  here  they  are  found  on  the  same  soil, 
struggling  for  the  mastery — the  Spanish  an  enduring  monument  to 
the  energy  and  bravery  of  the  Castilians  of  the  sixteenth  century,  who 
overran  and  subdued  more  than  half  of  the  New  World.  Every  time 
a  Navajo  says  agua  instead  of  toh  he  bears  unwitting  and  involuntary 
tribute  to  the  hardy  vigor  and  bold  intellect  of  that  wonderful  race, 
who  carried  their  arms  and  arts  through  these  remote  regions. 

On  the  other  side  we  talked  at  random,  without  need  of  an  inter- 
preter. Mrs.  Doyle,  as  the  lady  called  herself,  was  a  thorough 
frontier  woman,  and  informed  me  that  "  Our  old  gent  had  had 
eighteen  wives.  Two  left  him,  one  went  to  the  States,  and  another  to 
Montana,  and  when  McKean  got  up  such  a  bobbery  he  (Doyle)  divided 
his  property  among  them  that  were  living.  Old  gent  had  had  fifty-two 
children,  most  of 'em  living;  had  been  through  New  Mexico,  and  all 
that  country,  with  the  Mormon  battalion,  and  had  been  a  big  man  in 
the  Church,  but  was  now  here  on  a  mission,  tending  to  this  ferry. 
The  Mormons  will  establish  a  fine  ferry  here  and  a  good  road,  as  they 


300  WESTEXN    WILDS. 

intend  to  settle  all  the  good  country  on  the  other  side,  and  are  now 
settling  into  Arizona  as  fast  as  they  can.  Will  settle  Potato  Valley 
first,  then  down  in  the  White  and  San  Francisco  Mountains,"  etc. 

Her  own  history  was  both  sad  and  interesting.  She  was  born  in 
Brighton,  England,  and  reared  in  London.  Her  folks  were  well-to-do 
English,  and  signs  of  early  education  and  refinement  showed  plainly 
through  the  rough  coating  of  a  frontier  and  Mormon  life.  She  had 
embraced  Mormonism  at  the  age  of  twenty,  and  come  at  once  to 
Utah  (sixteen  years  before)  in  the  first  hand-cart  company.  They 
got  through  with  little  suffering.  It  was  the  company  after 
that  suffered  so.  She  "had  gone  in  second  to  Major  Doyle," 
by  express  request  of  Brigham  Young.  They  had  pioneered 
all  the  new  towns  south.  Had  a  fine  place  in  Harmony,  and 
sold  it  for  $4,000,  when  ordered  here  on  a  mission.  She  was  living 
here,  a  hundred  miles  from  the  nearest  settlement,  in  the  extreme  of 
hardship,  and  her  folks  begging  her  to  come  to  them.  And  now,  at 
the  end  of  all  these  sacrifices,  a  growing  skepticism  was  evident  in  her 
talk.  It  was  plain  that  she  doubted  seriously  whether  all  this  had  not 
been  vain — worse  than  useless.  She  firmly  believed  in  polygamy,  she 
said,  when  she  came  a  girl  from  England,  but  not  now ;  there  was  so 
much  evil  in  it  that  it  could  not  be  from  God. 

Four  days  had  passed,  and  still  no  "old  gent."  The  Indians  lost 
heart,  and  John  came  to  request  a  nclsoass — my  certificate  that  he 
had  seen  me  safe  across  the  Colorado.  I  furnished  them  all  the  bread 
and  cheese  Mrs.  Doyle  could  spare,  and  at  noon  they  started  to  return. 
I  watched  them  for  hours,  as  they  slowly  climbed  the  red  cliffs,  and 
with  a  feeling  near  akin  to  sorrow,  for  the  simple  aborigines  had  been 
more  company  to  me  than  I  could  have  believed  possible.  It  was  my 
last  sight  of  the  Navajoes — a  most  interesting  race  of  barbarians,  and 
the  only  Indians  for  whom  I  could  ever  feel  any  personal  friendship. 
In  three  hours  after  their  departure  "  Major  Doyle  "  returned,  and  we 
crossed  my  horse  without  difficulty.  The  method  pursued  is  for  one 
to  row  the  skiff,  while  another  holds  up  the  horse's  head  by  the  bridle, 
*he  animal  swimming  just  behind  the  boat. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


A    STARTLING    INTERVIEW. 

THE  hot  July  day  drew  to  a  close,  and  my  host  and  I  sat  before 
his  log-cabin  and  gazed  upon  the  red  lulls,  which  took  on  a  pleasing 
softness  in  the  light  of  the  declining  sun.  The  view  was  one  for  the 
poet,  the 
painter,  and 
the  novel- 
i  s  t .  The 
lofty  mount- 
ains which' 
wall  in  the 
Colorado, 
here  gave 
back  a  few 
rods  from 
the  water's 
edge.  From 
the  mount- 
ain s  u  m  - 
mits,  forty 
miles  north- 
ward, Pah- 
reah  Creek 
plunged 
down  by  a 
scries  of 
w i  1  d  cas- 
cades into  a 
deep  gorge, 
which,  me- 
andering across  the  plateau,  grew  into  a  rugged  canon,  and  here,  at 
its  junction  with  the  Colorado,  widened  its  granite  jaws  to  inclose  a 
small  plat  of  level  land.  On  all  sides  rose  the  red  and  yellow  hills, 
by  successive  "benches,"  to  a  plateau  five  thousand  feet  above;  ou 

(301) 


MOUTH  OF  PAHKEAH  CREEK,  NEAR  JOHN  D.  LEE'S. 


302  WESTERN   WILDS. 

that  again  red  buttes  rose  thousands  of  feet  higher,  their  wind-worn 
and  polished  summits  ever  inaccessible  to  man,  and  barely  brushed  by 
the  bald  eagle  in  his  loftiest  flights. 

To  this  little  glen,  the  only  cultivable  land  to  be  found  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles  along  the  Colorado,  there  were  three  entrances :  by  a 
hidden  and  rocky  trail  up  Pahreah  Cafion,  leading  over  the  summit 
and  down  the  Sevier  River;  by  the  way  we  came  in,  and  by  a  narrow 
track  leading  up  to  the  Kanab  Plateau,  and  thence  south-west  around 
the  point  of  the  mountain.  A  quick  eye  could  command  every  ap- 
proach; a  quick  hand  could  deal  destruction  upon  all  comers  if  so  dis- 
posed, or  a  fugitive  in  a  few  minutes  reach  concealed  places  where  a 
regiment  of  soldiers  could  not  find  him.  It  seemed  a  place  by  nature 
fitted  for  the  retreat  of  the  hunted — for  an  "old  man  of  the  mount- 
ains "  who  had  nothing  to  expect  from  the  world  but  its  hostility. 
And  such,  in  solemn  truth,  it  was. 

A  surprise  of  no  ordinary  kind  was  in  store  for  me.  I  had  grown 
well  acquainted  with  "Major  Doyle,"  as  his  wife  called  him,  and  in 
two  days'  intercourse  wre  had  learned  considerable  of  each  other's 
views  and  experiences.  Like  many  Mormons  with  whom  I  have 
stopped  he  had  "a word  of  prayer"  after  supper;  asked  fervently  for 
God's  blessing  on  "  Thy  Servant  Brigham,"  and  that  "  Thou  would'st 
turn  away  the  hearts  of  the  Lamanites  from  making  war  on  thy 
people,"  besides  referring  warmly  to  "our  making  the  desert  blossom 
as  the  rose ; "  and  not  long  after  in  conversation  referred  to  the  Gov- 
ernment's dealings  with  the  Indians  as  a  "d — d  shame,  that  hadn't 
ought  to  be  allowed."  But  this  sort  of  incongruity  is  so  common  in 
Utah  that  I  did  not  notice  it.  At  supper,  on  the  third  of  July,  he 
grew  very  animated  while  telling  of  some  horses  he  had  lost,  and  how 
they  were  recovered  from  the  thieves;  and  used  this  sentence  :"  The 
sheriff  said,  '  These  are  Lee's  horses — I  know 'em."'  "Lee's!  "said 
I,  "  Does  he  live  near  here  ?" — for  they  had  told  me  at  Defiance  that 
I  ought  to  go  by  Lee's  Ferry.  My  host  hesitated.  I  fancied  there 
was  a  faint  flush  on  his  weather-beaten  face,  as  he  replied: 

"  That's  what  they  sometimes  call  me." 

''What!"  exclaimed  I;  "I  thought  your  name  was  Doyle." 

"So  it  is — John  Doyle  Lee."  I  almost  jumped  out  of  my  chair 
with  astonishment  and  confusion.  Here  I  was  the  guest  of,  and  in 
familiar  conversation  with,  this  most  notorious  of  all  notorious  Mor- 
mons— the  reputed  planner  and  leader  in  the  Mountain  Meadow 
Massacre  !  My  confusion  was  too  great  to  be  concealed,  and  I  blun- 
dered out:  "I  have  often  heard  of  you." 


A  STARTLING  INTERVIEW.  303 

"And  heard  nothing  that  was  good,  I  reckon."  This,  with  some 
bitterness  of  tone.  He  then  continued,  speaking  rapidly  : 

"Yes,  I  told  my  wives  to  call  me  Doyle  to  strangers;  they've  been 
kicking  up  such  a  muss  about  polygamy,  McKean  and  them,  and 
I'm  a  man  that's  had  eighteen  wives;  but  now  that  the  Supreme 
Court  has  decided  that  polygamy's  part  of  a  man's  religion,  and  the 
law's  got  nothin'  to  do  with  it;  it  don't  make  no  difference,  I  reckon." 

Of  course  this  was  only  a  subterfuge^  but  I  could  not  have  ventured 
to  recur  to  the  real  reason  of  his  being  located  in  this  wild  place,  if 
he  had  not  approached  the  subject  himself  soon  after.  Then  I  hinted 
as  delicately  as  possible,  that  if  it  were  not  disagreeable  to  him,  I 
should  like  to  hear  "  the  true  account  of  that  affair  which  had  been 
the  cause  of  his  name  being  so  prominent."  It  had  grown  dark  mean- 
while, and  this  gave  him,  I  thought,  more  freedom  in  his  talk.  (It  is 
to  be  noted  that  he  did  not  know  my  name  or  business.)  Clearing  his 
throat  nervously,  he  began,  with  many  short  stops  and  repetitions : 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  mean  that — well,  that  Mountain  Meadow  af- 
fair ?  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  is  the  exact  truth  of  it,  as  God  is  my 
Judge,  and  the  why  I  am  out  here  like  an  outlaw — but  I'm  a  goin'  to 
die  like  a  man,  and  not  be  choked  like  a  dog — and  why  my  name's 
published  all  over  as  the  vilest  man  in  Utah,  on  account  of  what 
others  did — but  I  never  will  betray  my  brethren,  no,  never — which  it 
is  .told  for  a  sworn  fact  that  I  violated  two  girls  as  they  were  kneel- 
ing and  begging  to  me  for  life ;  but,  as  God  is  my  Judge,  and  I  expect 
to  stand  before  Him,  it  is  all  an  infernal  lie." 

He  ran  off  this  and  much  more  of  the  sort  with  great  volubility; 
then  seemed  to  grow  more  calm,  and  went  on : 

"Now,  sir,  I'll  give  you  the  account  exactly  as  it  stood,  though  for 
years  I've  rested  under  the  most  infamous  charges  ever  cooked  up  on 
a  man.  I've  had  to  move  from  point  to  point,  and  lost  my  property, 
when  I  might  have  cleared  it  up  any  time  by  just  saying  who  was 
who.  I  could  have  proved  that  I  was  not  in  it,  but  not  without 
bringing  in  other  men  to  criminate  them.  But  I  wouldn't  do  it. 
They  had  trusted  in  me,  and  their  motives  were  good  at  the  start,  bad 
as  the  thing  turned  out. 

"  But  about  the  emigrants.  They  was  the  worst  set  that  ever  crossed 
the  plains,  and  they  made  it  so  as  to  get  here  just  when  we  was  at 
war.  Old  Buchanan  had  sent  his  army  to  destroy  us,  and  we  had 
made  up  our  minds  that  they  should  not  find  any  spoil.  We  had  been 
making  preparations  for  two  years,  drying  wheat  and  caching  it  in  the 
mountains;  and  intended,  when  worst  come  to  worst,  to  burn  and 


304 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


HEAD  OF  THE  OK  AND  CASON. 


A  STARTLING  INTERVIEW.  305 

destroy  every  thing,  and  take  to  the  mountains  and  fight  it  out  guer- 
rilla style.  And  I  tell  you  this  people  was  all  hot  and  enthusiastic, 
and  just  at  that  time  these  emigrants  came. 

"  Now  they  acted  more  like  devils  than  men ;  and  just  to  give  you 
an  idea  what  a  hard  set  they  was:  when  Dr.  Forney  gathered  up  the 
children  two  years  after — fifteen,  I  believe,  they  was — and  sent  word 
back  to  their  relatives,  they  sent  word  that  they  didn't  want  'em, 
and  wouldn't  have  any  thing  to  do  with  'em.  And  that  old  Dr. 
Forney  treated  the  children  like  dogs,  hammer-in'  'em  around  with 
his  big  cane. 

"  The  company  had  quarreled  and  separated  east  of  the  mountains, 
but  it  was  the  biggest  half  that  come  first.  They  come  south  of  Salt 
Lake  City  just  as  all  the  men  was  going  out  to  the  war,  and  lots  of 
women  and  children  lonely.  Their  conduct  was  scandalous.  They 
swore  and  boasted  openly  that  they  helped  shoot  the  guts  out  of 
Joe  Smith  and  Hyrum  Smith,  at  Carthage,  and  that  Buchanan's 
whole  army  was  coming  right  hehind  them,  and  would  kill  every 
G — d  d — n  Mormon  in  Utah,  and  make  the  women  and  children 

slaves,  and They  had  two  bulls,  which  they  called  one 

'Heber'  and  the  other  'Brigham,'  and  whipped  'em  thro'  every  town, 
yelling  and  singing,  blackguarding  and  blaspheming  oaths  that 
would  have  made  your  hair  stand  on  end.  At  Spanish  Fork — it  can 
be  proved — one  of  'em  stood  on  his  wagon-tongue,  and  swung  a 
pistol,  and  swore  that  he  helped  kill  old  Joe  Smith,  and  was  ready 
for  old  Brigham  Young,  and  all  sung  a  blackguard  song,  'Oh,  we've 
got  the  ropes  and  we'll  hang  old  Brigham  before  the  snow  flies,'  and 
all  such  stuff.  Well,  it  was  mighty  hard  to  bear,  and  when  they  got 
to  where  the  Pahvant  Indians  was,  they  shot  one  of  them  dead  and 
crippled  another.  But  the  worst  is  coming. 

"At  Corn  Creek,  just  this  side  of  Fillmore,  they  poisoned  a  spring 
and  the  flesh  of  an  ox  that  died  there,  and  gave  that  to  the  Indians, 
and  some  Indians  died.  Then  the  widow  Tomlinson,  just  this  side, 
had  an  ox  poisoned  at  the  spring,  and  she  thought  to  save  the  hide 
and  tallow ;  and  rendering  it  up,  the  poison  got  in  her  face,  and 
swelled  it  up,  and  she  died.  This  roused  every  body.  Well,  they 
came  on  down  the  road,  and  with  their  big  Missouri  whips  would 
snap  off  the  heads  of  chickens  and  throw  'em  into  their  wagons;  and 
when  a  widow,  Missis  Evans,  came  out  and  said:  'Do  n't  kill  my 
chickens,  gentlemen,  I'm  a  poor  woman,'  one  of  'em  yelled,  'Shut  up  you 
G — d  d — d  Mormon,  or  I'll  shoot  you ! '  Then  her  sons  and  all  her  folks 

got  out  with  guns,  and  swore  they'd  have  revenge  on  the  whole  outfit. 
20 


306  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"By  this  time  the  Indians  had  gathered  from  all  directions,  and 
overtook  'em  at  Mountain  Meadow.  They  planned  it  to  crawl  down 
a  narrow  ravine  and  get  in  close,  and  make  a  rush  altogether.  But 
one  fool  Indian  fired  too  soon  and  gave  the  alarm.  This  spoilt  the 
plan,  but  all  in  reach  fired,  and  killed,  well,  five  or  six  men.  Then 
a  sort  o'  siege  began.  The  men  inside  did  well — the  best  they  oould 
have  done.  They  got  the  wagons  corraled  and  dug  rifle-pits.  The 
Indians  could  not  hit  any  more  of  the  people,  but  shot  nearly  all 
their  oxen  and  some  horses.  I  believe  it  was  after  three  or  four 
days'  siege  that  I  went  to  the  Indians  and  tried  to  persuade  them 
away ;  for  our  folks  had  had  a  council,  and  while  I  said,  '  Persuade 
the  Indians  away,  the  other  brethren  said,  'Let  the  Indians  punish 
them.'  I  said  to  the  Indians  '  You've  killed  more  of  them  than  died 
of  your  men,  and  you've  harassed  them  a  good  deal,  killed  their 
stock,  and  punished  them  enough — now  let  them  go.'  But  they  said 
these  white  men  were  all  bad,  and  they  would  kill  all.  Jacob  Ham- 
lin,  the  agent,  you  know,  was  away  from  home  then,  and  I  had  n't 
much  control  over  the  Indians.  We  was  weak  then  in  that  section 
to  what  we  are  now,  and  did  not  really  have  the  upper  hand  of  the 
Indians ;  and  maybe,  if  we  interfered  with  'em,  it  would  dause  trouble 
with  us.  I  heard  women  inside  begging  and  praying,  and  saying 
that  if  the  Mormons  knew  how  they  were  situated  they  would  come 
and  help,  no  matter  if  some  had  treated  'em  badly.  And  they  begged 
some  of  the  fellows  to  break  out  and  go  and  get  help.  Then  I  run 
a  big  risk  to  get  inside  the  corral.  It  was  pitch  dark,  and  I  could  see 
the  line  of  fire  from  the  guns,  and  the  balls  whistled  all  about  me. 
One  cut  my  shirt  in  front,  and  another  my  sleeve,  and  I  could  not  get 
through.  But  I  went  back,  and  was  pretty  near  getting  the  Indians 
all  right,  and  would  have  succeeded  fully,  but  then  come  the  thing 
that  spoiled  all. 

"  Three  of  the  emigrants  had  broken  out  of  the  corral  and  gone 
back  for  help;  and  next  day  met  some  of  our  boys  at  a  spring.  Well, 
I  don't  excuse  our  men — they  were  enthusiastic,  you  know,  but  their 
motives  were  good.  They  knew  these  emigrants  at  once;  one  of  them 
wa?  the  man  that  insulted  widow  Evans,  another  the  one  that  swung; 

7  O 

his  pistol  and  talked  so  at  Spanish  Fork.  The  boys  fell  on  them  at 
sight,  shot  one  dead  and  wounded  another.  But  the  two  of  them  got 
back  to  the  company. 

"  Then  came  another  council,  and  all  our  men  said :  '  We  can't  let 
'em  go  now ;  the  boys  has  killed  some,  and  it  won't  do  to  let  one  get 
through  alive,  or  here  they'll  come  back  on  us  with  big  reinforce- 


A    STARTLING  INTERVIEW.  307 

ments.'  And,  to  be  sure,  why  should  we  risk  any  thing,  and  maybe 
have  a  fuss  with  the  Indians,  to  save  people  who  done  nothing  but 
abuse  us?  But  I  still  said,  'Let'em  go;  they've  been  punished 
enough.' 

"  I  never  will  mention  any  names,  or  betray  my  brethren.  Those 
men  were  God-fearing  men.  Their  motives  were  pure.  They  knelt 
down  and  prayed  to  be  guided  in  council.  But  they  was  full  of  zeal. 
Their  zeal  was  greater  than  their  knowledge. 

"  I  went  once  more  to  the  Indians,  and  begged  them  to  kill  only  the 
men.  They  said  they  would  kill  every  one;  then  I  told  them  I  would 
buy  all  the  children,  so  all  the  children  was  saved.  There  was  not 
over  fifteen  white  men  actually  went  in  with  the  Indians,  and  I  don't 
believe  a  single  emigrant  was  actually  killed  by  a  white  man. 

"An  express  had  been  sent  to  Brigham  Young  at  first  to  know  what 
to  do,  and  it  is  a  pity  it  didn't  get  back;  for  those  enthusiastic  men  will 
obey  counsel.  The  president  sent  back  orders,  and  told  the  man  to 
ride  night  and  day,  by  all  means  to  let  the  emigrants  go  on;  to  call  off 
the  Indians,  and  for  no  Mormons  to  molest  them.  But  the  thing  was 
all  over  before  the  express  got  back  to  Provo.  There  was  about  eighty 
fighting  men  that  was  killed.  I  don't  know  how  many  women,  though 
not  many.  All  the  children  was  saved.  The  little  boy  that  lived  with 
us  cried  all  night  when  he  left  us,  and  said  he'd  come  back  to  us  as 
soon  as  he  got  old  enough.  Old  Forney,  when  he  come  for  'em, 
got  all  in  his  tent  and  would  not  let  'em  visit  or  say  good-bye  to  any 
body.  One  run  away  and  hid  under  the  floor  of  the  house,  and  For- 
ney dragged  him  out  and  beat  him  like  a  dog  with  his  cane.  They 
say  he  murdered  the  baby  on  the  plains,  because  it  was  sickly  and 
troublesome. 

"  It  is  told  around  for  a  fact  that  I  could  tell  great  confessions,  and 
bring  in  Brigham  Young  and  the  Heads  of  the  Church.  But  if  I  was 
to  make  forty  confessions,  I  could  not  bring  in  Brigham  Young.  His 
counsel  was:  'Spare  them,  by  all  means.'  But  I  am  made  to  bear  the 
blame.  Here  I  am,  old,  poor,  and  lonely,  away  down  in  this  place — 
carrying  the  sins  of  my  brethren.  But  if  I  endure,  great  is  my  reward. 
Bad  as  that  thing  was,  I  will  not  be  the  means  of  bringing  troubles  on 
my  people;  for,  you  know  yourself,  that  this  people  is  a  misrepresented 
and  cried-down  community.  Yes,  a  people  scattered  and  peeled,  whose 
blood  was  shed  in  great  streams  in  Missouri,  only  for  worshiping  God 
as  he  was  revealed  to  them ;  and  if  at  the  last  they  did  rise  up  and 
shed  blood  of  their  enemies,  I  won't  consent  to  give  'em  up." 

Such  was  the  remarkable  story  told  me  by  Major  John  Doyle  Lee.    I 


308  WESTERN   WILDS. 

will  not  now  anticipate  my  story  by  pointing  out  its  truth  and  errors ; 
for  in  later  chapters  I  give  the  facts,  and  have  here  set  down  but  a 
small  part  of  our  conversation — only  such  as  I  could  remember  beyond 
doubt,  and  jot  down  at  my  first  halting-place  next  day.  Lee  talked 
over  the  whole  history  of  his  life,  before  and  since  the  massacre. 
After  that  event  he  continued  to  reside  in  Harmony,  was  a  leader 
in  all  public  affairs  there,  and  often  entertained  Brigham  Young 
when  the  latter  visited  that  section.  Thence  he  was  ordered  "  on 
a  mission "  to  establish  new  settlements  further  into  the  wilderness ; 
and  obeyed,  as  do  all  good  Mormons,  without  a  murmur,  selling  his 
fine  place  in  Harmony  for  four  thousand  bushels  of  wheat.  From 
Cedar  City  to  Santa  Clara,  and  thence  to  Kanab  and  Mangrum's  set- 
tlement, he  had  continued  to  remove,  and  was  finally  sent  down  here 
to  maintain  a  ferry  and  act  as  interpreter  and  mediator  among  the 
Indians.  He  spoke  the  tongues  of  all  adjacent  tribes,  and  had  their 
good  will.  He  dwelt  at  some  length  on  his  liking  for  the  boy  whom 
he  had  saved  from  the  massacre  and  taken  to  live  with  him ;  and  re- 
lated with  pride  the  boy's  promise  to  come  back  as  soon  as  he  got  old 
enough.  Unfortunately  for  his  own  good,  that  boy,  now  a  man,  did 
return.  He  became  a  noted  desperado,  under  the  name  of  Idaho  Bill, 
and  is  now  serving  out  a  long  sentence  in  the  Utah  penitentiary ! 

Misfortune  followed  the  poor  children  to  the  last.  Mormon  ac- 
counts say  that  eighteen  were  saved  alive.  Of  these  Jacob  Hamlin 
says  that  one  was  captured  by,  or  went  off  with,  the  Xavajo  Indians, 
and  may  now  be  among  them ;  another  was  killed  "  because  he  knew  too 
much,"  and  the  youngest,  a  mere  baby,  died  on  the  way  to  the  States, 
after  being  recovered  by  Dr.  Jacob  Forney,  Indian  Agent  in  1859. 
Of  the  fifteen  who  reached  St.  Louis  few  could  find  any  relatives,  and 
the  remainder  were  sent  to  the  Orphan  Asylum,  and  in  time  scattered 
thence  all  over  the  South-west,  knowing  of  their  families  only  by  hear- 
say or  vague  remembrance.  John  Calvin  Sorrow,  the  only  one  who 
remembered  the  massacre,  lives  somewhere  in  Arkansas ;  the  girl  who 
was  supposed  to  be  his  sister,  is  married  to  a  resident  of  East  Ten- 
nessee. With  no  family  ties  and  no  parental  care,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  some  of  the  survivors  have  done  badly. 

Midnight  had  come  before  we  finished  our  talk,  and  turned  in  to- 
gether upon  a  straw  tick  beside  the  house.  Little  did  I  think  that 
three  years  from  that  time  I  was  to  see  Lee  a  prisoner  before  the 
Federal  courts ;  for,  like  all  old  residents  of  Utah,  I  had  long  aban- 
doned hope  that  the  Government  could  be  spurred  into  doing  any 
thing  to  execute  justice  in  that  Territory.  Even  then  I  had  no  doubt 


A   STARTLING  INTERVIEW.  309 

of  his  guilt,  though  I  could,  and  can  now,  see  extenuating  circum- 
stances. John  D.  Lee  was  a  born  fanatic.  Of  good  size  and  physical 
frame,  with  light  hair,  fiery  blue  eye,  gross  composition  and  warm  red 
blood,  he  was  also  a  sensualist.  His  high  but  narrow  forehead,  his 
education — first  as  an  intense  sectarian,  accustomed  to  destroy  the 
spirit  of  Scripture  by  twisting  the  letter;  then  as  a  Mormon — made 
him  a  thorough  casuist;  so  thorough  that  he  deceived  himself  first  of 
all.  The  man  who  deliberately  refuses  to  look  at  the  doubtful  points 
in  his  religion,  from  that  hour  ceases  to  be  intellectually  honest. 
Thence,  by  successive  steps,  he  often  convinces  himself  that  any  thing 
is  right  which  helps  his  church,  and  compounds  for  gross  indulgence 
in  one  direction  by  religious  zeal  in  another.  Mormonism  aggra- 
vated all  of  Lee's  faults ;  it  gave  free  rein  to  his  all-engrossing  lust,  and 
spurred  his  savage  temper  on  to  deeds  of  blood.  In  Ohio  he  would 
have  been  a  sour  Puritan,  compounding  for  little  tricks  in  trade  or 
big  fits  of  passion,  "by  austerity  in  religion  and  extreme  decorum.  In 
Utah  he  became  what  I  have  described.  As  said  by  a  Mormon  elder, 
later  an  apostate,  who  had  known  him  long  and  well:  "John  D.  Lee 
is  a  man  who  would  divide  his  last  biscuit  with  the  traveler  upon  the 
desert,  and  cut  that  traveler's  throat  the  next  hour  if  Brigham  Young 
said  so." 

Independence  Day,  1872,  I  celebrated  by  a  ride  of  thirty-five  miles. 
Bidding  the  Lees  good-bye  at  an  early  hour,  I  slowly  ascended  the 
winding  trail  which  leads  to  the  great  plateau  between  the  Colorado 
and  the  Wasatch.  Here  this  plateau  runs  to  a  narrow  point,  there 
being  but  little  more  than  room  for  a  wagon  between  the  cliff  on  one 
side  and  the  river  gorge  on  the  other.  Here,  at  the  head  of  the  long 
cafion,  the  Powell  party  had  their  rendezvous;  they  were  now  in 
Kanab  for  a  midsummer's  rest,  but  their  boats  were  moored  here. 
From  the  bridle  path  I  looked  straight  down  the  river,  which  ap- 
peared to  soon  loose  itself  between  red  battlements.  On  both  sides 
rose  the  water-worn  walls,  for  two  thousand  feet  nearly  perpendicular, 
the  lines  on  every  foot  of  their  faces  showing  the  successive  points  at 
which  the  water  had  stood  during  all  the  countless  thousands  of  years 
in  which  it  slowly  fashioned  this  passage  for  itself.  When  it  ran  in  a 
shallow  channel  along  the  present  summit,  all  the  Colorado  Basin  was 
a  region  of  lakes  and  marshes,  with  here  and  there  an  island  of  firm 
earth,  covered  by  dense  forests,  and  rich  in  matted  grasses  and  flowers. 
Then  the  mist  from  this  inland  sea  washed  the  western  base  of  Pike's 
Peak,  and  the  Colorado  descended  by  a  series  of  cascades,  through  a 
fall  of  four  thousand  feet,  into  the  head  of  the  Gulf  of  California. 


310  WESTERN   WILDS. 

A  little  later,  and  it  had  cut  so  deep  as  to  drain  the  shallower  lakes 
and  marshes;  then  all  the  interior  between  the  Wasatch  and  Rocky 
Mountains  was  covered  by  dense  forests,  lively  with  game.  A  little 
later,  and  the  regions  became  the  abode  of  strange  semi-civilized  races. 
Their  remains  are  found  over  an  area  of  three  hundred  thousand 
square  miles.  Still  the  river  went  on  cutting  deeper  and  deeper, 
draining  the  last  reservoirs,  and  opening  a  way  for  the  springs  to  dis- 
charge at  lower  points ;  and  slowly  sucking  the  life  out  of  its  own 
basin.  It  cut  down  through  sandstone  to  limestone,  through  lime- 
stone to  granite,  and  deep  into  the  granite,  till  the  former  fertile  vales 
were  changed  to  barren  plateaus ;  the  semi -civilized  races  vanished, 
leaving  few  survivors,  and  the  "  backbone  of  the  continent "  became 
a  desert,  with  only  here  and  there  an  oasis. 

From  the  point  where  I  reached  the  plateau,  it  slowly  widens  west- 
ward for  a  hundred  miles,  the  mountains  continuing  due  west,  and  the 
river  bearing  south-west.  Fifteen  miles  south-westward,  over  a  desert 
and  along  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  brought  me  to  the  first  gulch  con- 
taining water  and  grass,  where  I  rested  till  2  P.  M.  Thence  over 
another  barren  mesa,  twenty  miles  brought  nie  to  Jacob's  Pool,  where 
the  pasture  lands  begin.  The  pool  is  a  clear,  cold  spring,  at  the  head 
of  a  gulch,  sending  out  a  stream  the  size  of  one's  wrist,  which  runs 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  down  the  plain  before  it  disappears.  The 
largest  mountain  streams  in  this  section  never  run  more  than  a  mile  or 
two  on  to  the  plain.  In  some  places  a  channel  can  be  traced  nearly 
to  the  Colorado.  The  Wasatch  here  has  an  average  elevation  of  five 
thousand  feet  above  this  plateau,  and  there  are  but  three  places  in  a 
hundred  miles  where  horses  and  footmen  can  get  down  through  side 
gulches  to  the  river. 

John  D.  Lee  had  preempted  the  pool,  and  had  his  wife  Rachel  liv- 
ing there  in  a  sort  of  brush-tent,  making  butter  and  cheese  from  a 
herd  of  twenty  cows.  She  and  her  son  and  daughter  of  sixteen  and 
eighteen  years  were  the  sole  inhabitants,  no  neighbors  within  less 
than  forty  miles  either  way.  Lee's  other  wives  were  scattered  about 
on  ranches  farther  north ;  four  at  Mangrum's  settlement  and  two  oth- 
ers at  Harmony.  One  left  him,  and  lives  at  Beaver;  another  went  to 
Montana  with  a  Gentile,  and  still  another  is  in  the  States,  "living 
fancy,  I  reckon,"  said  the  wife  at  the  river,  who  gave  me  this  informa- 
tion. There  was  no  room  in  the  tent,  and  Mrs.  Lee  gave  me  a  straw 
tick  out  doors — luxury  enough  for  one  who  had  slept  with  only  a 
blanket  between  him  and  the  ground  for  many  weeks;  and  at  this 
oasis  I  rested  a  day  and  a  half. 


A    STARTLING   INTERVIEW.  311 

Thence,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  6th,  I  rode  eighteen  miles  nearly 
straight  west  to  the  first  water,  and  encamped  for  the  night  in  a  rich 
bunch-grass  pasture,  dotted  with  scrubby  pines.  After  bread  and  tea, 
I  hoppled  my  horse  and  slept  till  Hear  daylight,  then  took  a  hasty 
breakfast  and  canteen  of  water  and  was  oif  for  Navajo  Wells,  thirty 
miles  ahead,  and  the  first  place  where  water  could  be  had.  I  traveled 
along  the  original  Navajo  trail  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  Southern  Ne- 
vada ;  and  early  in  the  day  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  Buckskin,  a 
low  range  of  partially-wooded  hills,  putting  out  across  the  plateau 
nearly  to  the  Colorado.  All  over  this  I  found  good  blue-grass,  which 
is  very  rare  every-where  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  grass  on  the 
plains  here  consists  of  two  species  of  bunch-grass — the  common  yel- 
low and  the  white-topped  varieties.  But  neither  forms  a  sod  or 
sward,  or  gives  more  than  a  faint  tinge  of  green  to  the  landscape. 
My  general  direction  for  the  day  was  north-west,  working  toward  the 
Utah  line,  though  the  road  at  times  wound  about  to  every  point.  West 
of  the  Buckskin  was  a  singular  flood  plain  some  six  miles  wide,  with 
rich  soil,  but  no  moisture,  and  nearly  destitute  of  grass.  I  had  trav- 
eled till  3  P.  M.,  looking  closely  for  Navajo  Wells  for  the  last  few 
miles,  when  I  emerged  from  a  rocky  ridge  scantily  clothed  with 
pifions,  upon  another  flood  plain,  and  was  at  once  aware  that  I  had 
missed  the  Wells.  But  soon  an  Indian  overtook  me,  whom  I  hailed 
with  "Toh,  agua,  water!"  using  the  three  languages  spoken  in  this  re- 
gion ;  but  he  understood  neither.  Then  I  had  recourse  to  pantomime, 
when  he  rejoined,  "Pah  to  wicki-up"  and  directed  me  to  follow.  Two 
miles  back  and  half  a  mile  from  the  trail  was  the  water-hole,  and  near 
by  the  camp  of  his  tribe,  a  horribly  filthy  and  repulsive  gang  of  some 
forty  savages.  A  hole  in  the  sand  contained  the  only  water,  which 
was  lukewarm,  slimy  and  full  of  nasty  black  creatures ;  but  it  was 
that  or  nothing,  and  my  horse  drank  it  under  protest.  For  his  court- 
esy I  divided  my  stock  of  meat  and  cheese  with  the  chief,  who  be- 
came very  communicative,  preferred  a  request  for  tobacco,  suggested 
in  pantomime  that  I  camp  there  for  the  night,  and  asked  how  long 
since  I  left  the  Navajoes.  They  had  at  first  sight  recognized  my  rig 
as  Navajo,  for  every  tribe  in  the  mountains  knows  the  handi\vork  of 
every  other.  The  degraded  natives  of  this  region  are  known  as  the 
Pi-Utes,  the  Pi-Edes  and  the  Lee-Biches,  and  are  the  very  lowest  of 
the  race.  In  summer  they  fare  sumptuously  on  piflon  nuts,  roots, 
grass-seeds  and  white  sage ;  but  in  winter  they  are  reduced  to  bugs, 
li/arcls,  grubs  and  ground-mice,  occasionally  assisted  by  donations 
from  the  settlements,  or  the  flesh  of  such  Mormon  stock  as  die  of 


312 


WESTEHN  WILDS. 


disease.  They  are  totally  devoid  of  skill  in  any  respect,  and  when 
furnished  with  boards  can  not  construct  a  shelter  from  the  rain. 

Eight  miles  further  I  camped  for  the  night ;  was  off,  by  reason  of 
the  cold,  an  hour  before  daylight,  and  rode  into  Kanab  just  as  the 
first  rays  of  sunshine  were  streaming  over  the  rugged  gaps  of  the  east- 
ern mountains.  Kanab  sits  back  in  a  beautiful  cove  in  the  mountains, 

something 
like  a  cres- 
cent in  shape, 
the  mount- 
ain peaks 
east  and  west 
of  the  town 
putting  out 
southward  to 
the  Arizona 
line.  All  the 
land  within 
the  cove  ap- 
pears rich, 
and  the  town 
site  is  irri- 
gated from  a 
considerable 
creek  running 
out  of  a  nar- 
row gulch. 
By  direction 
of  the  first 
person  met,  I 
went  to  Ja- 
cob Hamlin's 
house,  where 
I  had  two 

days'  rest.  I  was  most  fortunate  in  my  selection.  Three  of  Major 
Powell's  men  were  here,  waiting  for  his  arrival  from  Salt  Lake  City. 
Here,  also,  I  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomson,  of  Major  Powell's  party, 
so  altogether  we  had  a  very  delightful  little  Gentile  society  in  this 
Mormon  stronghold.  Hamlin,  who  is  a  Church  Agent  of  Indian  Af- 
fairs, struck  in  on  the  subject  of  Mormonism  the  first  meal;  but  as  I 
was  once  more  in  the  land  of  beef  and  biscuit,  hot  coffee  and  other 


"  THE  LITTLE  SAVAGES  FIXED  AN   T7NWINKING   GAZE     UPON   ME." 


A    STARTLING    INTERVIEW. 


313 


luxuries,  I  could  stand  up  to  any  amount  of  argument.  We  had  it 
hot  for  two  days,  but  parted  friends.  Kanab  is  quite  new,  and  has 
but  two  hundred  inhabitants.  To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomson  I  am  under 
many  obligations,  not  only  for  writing  conveniences,  but  for  many 
hours  of  social  enjoyment;  and  as  for  the  Powell  party  generally,  my 
meeting  them  here  was  a  rare  piece  of  good  fortune. 

For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  found  it 
convenient  to  drop 
my  name  while  mak- 
ing this  trip.  The 
Saints  might  have  a 
prejudice  against  me, 
so  I  introduced  my- 
self to  Lee  by  my 
middle  name,  "  Han- 
son," and  by  the  same 
title  traveled  to  Salt 
Lake  City.  There 
was  something  gro- 
tesque in  "  Mr.  Han- 
son" and  "Major 
Doyle "  meeting  in 
the  wilderness,  when 
the  one  was  the 
Mountain  Meadow's 
butcher  and  the  other 
the  Gentile  writer 
who  had  done  his 
best  to  make  him  no- 
torious. 

Striking  south-west 
from  Kanab,  in  a  few  miles  I  very  nearly  ran  over  a  group  of  young 
Pi-Edes,  crouched  down  in  a  pifion  thicket.  The  little  savages  fixed 
an  unwinking  gaze  upon  me,  but  never  stirred  or  spoke,  their  Indian 
nature  forbidding  expression  either  of  surprise,  pleasure  or  fear'  at 
sight  of  me.  It  is  doubtful  if  they  felt  either.  A  little  beyond  I  saw 
their  mother,  or  older  sister,  gathering  grass-seeds — the  summer  work 
of  these  squaws — naked  as  new-created  Eve,  but  hardly  so  handsome 
as  Milton  paints  our  great  mother.  By  her  lay  her  wicker-basket, 
which  she  had  dropped  at  my  approach,  to  retreat  behind  the  bush, 


A  PI-EDE  CERES. 


314  WESTERN  WILDS. 

whether  from  fear  or  modesty  was  hard  to  say.  At  dark  1 
reached  Pipe  Springs,  where  is  a  ranche  kept  by  Bishop  Windsor  and 
one  of  his  families.  I  found  the  Bishop  a  good  landlord,  and  chatty, 
agreeable  companion.  The  spring  from  which  the  place  takes  its 
name  sends  down  a  large  stream  of  cold,  clear  water,  which  the  Bishop 
leads  in  stone  troughs  through  his  houses,  using  one  of  them  for  a 
cheese  factory.  He  milks  eighty  cows,  and  makes  the  business  a 
splendid  success.  All  this  section  is  rich  in  pasture,  but  has  so  little 
arable  land  that  most  of  the  few  inhabitants  have  to  import  their 
flour,  paying  for  it  in  butter  and  cheese.  Even  with  this  large  stream 
the  Bishop  can  cultivate  but  fifteen  acres,  the  porous,  sandy  soil  re- 
quiring five  times  as  much  irrigation  as  the  land  around  Salt  Lake 
City.  The  place  is  just  outside  the  rim  of  the  Great  Basin,  and  the 
country  about  of  the  same  level  as  that  within.  From  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  range  along  which  we  travel  the  surface  slopes  a  very  little 
toward  the  Colorado,  but  near  that  river  rises  again  to  a  height  above 
that  along  the  road. 

Thence  the  next  afternoon  I  traversed  a  sandy  desert  for  twenty-five 
miles,  reached  the  first  pool  and  took  supper,  then  rode  nine  miles 
further  by  dark,  and  made  a  "  dry  camp  "  iu  a  low,  grassy  valley  be- 
tween two  wooded  hills.  Thence  I  reached  Gould's  Ranche  (ten 
miles)  in  time  for  a  late  breakfast  and  another  hot  argument  on  poli- 
tics. The  Church  was  then  straining  every  nerve  to  get  Utah  ad- 
mitted as  a  State,  the  Gentiles  fighting  the  proposition  with  the  bit- 
terness •  of  desperation,  and  all  Southern  Utah  was  hot  over  the 
matter. 

That  day  I  mistook  the  road,  but  did  not  regret  my  error  when  it 
led  me  to  the  beautiful  hamlet  of  Virgin  City.  The  neat,  white  adobe 
houses  were  almost  hidden  in  forests  of  peach,  fig,  apple,  and  mul- 
berry trees ;  the  climate  rivaled  that  of  Southern  California,  and  dam- 
sons, apricots,  and  pears  also  abounded.  All  that  part  of  Mormondom 
south  of  the  rim  of  the  Great  Basin  is  called  Dixie,  and  produces  cot- 
ton, wine  and  figs.  And  here  I  first  began  to  be  conscious  of  the 
oddity  of  my  dress.  At  Defiance,  to  avoid  being  too  conspicuous 
among  the  Indians,  I  had  dressed  in  a  buckskin  suit,  with  spangled 
Mexican  jacket,  stout  moccasins  handsomely  worked,  beaded  scarf, 
and  flowered  calico  head-wrap;  so,  at  a  distance,  I  was  every- where 
taken  for  an  Indian.  Marriage  with  Indian  women  is  a  strong  point 
in  the  religion  of  these  Southern  Mormons,  and  the  men  were  de- 
lighted with  my  description  of  the  grace,  beauty,  and  general  desira- 
bleness of  Navajo  girls,  as  they  expect  to  form  a  close  alliance  with 


A  STARTLING  INTERVIEW.  315 

that  tribe.  Jacob  Hamlin  had  visited  all  the  tribes  in  Northern 
Arizona,  making  treaties  between  the  Indians  and  the  Church. 

My  next  journey  was  to  Toquerville,  where  I  stopped  with  Bishop 
Isaac  C.  Haight,  another  leader  in  the  Mountain  Meadow  Massacre, 
and  a  prominent  Mormon.  Ripe  figs,  just  plucked  from  the  tree, 
formed  part  of  our  dessert.  The  narrow  valley  is  very  fertile;  all 
around  are  yellow  hills  and  red  deserts.  A  leisurely  journey  of  a 
day  brought  me  thence  to  Kanarra,  in  the  rim  of  the  Great  Basin. 
In  the  south  end  of  town  the  water  flows  towards  the  Colorado;  in 
the  north  end  into  the  Basin.  There  I  had  my  first  sickness  on  the 
trip,  as  did  my  horse.  We  had  stood  adversity ;  prosperity  ruined  us. 
I  indulged  too  freely  in  fruit,  and  he  in  Lucerne  hay.  There  was  no 
doctor  in  town,  so  I  worried  it  through  on  hot  ginger  and  "Dixie 
wine ; "  in  three  days  was  able  to  ride,  and  proceeded  by  easy  stages 
to  Parowan,  in  Iron  County.  But  six  hundred  miles  through  the 
Indian  country  had  worn  out  my  horse,  and  on  the  16th  instant  I 
"  ranched  him "  twenty  miles  south  of  Beaver,  and  set  out  for  that 
place  in  the  wagon  of  a  Mormon  farmer.  Some  five  miles  on  the 
road — when  we  were  on  the  Beaver  "  divide  " — a  cold  rain  set  in  and 
continued  for  four  hours,  changing  to  something  very  near  sleet.  The 
Mormon  family  and  myself  suffered  greatly  with  cold.  The  seasons 
at  Beaver  are  very  late,  and  wheat  harvest  does  not  begin  till  in 
August.  Little  Salt  Lake  lay  a  few  miles  west  of  our  route,  on  the 
"divide."  Having  passed  the  ridge,  I  walked  down  the  eight-mile 
slope  to  Beaver,  which  I  reached  at  dark,  and  was  soon  warm  and 
happy  in  the  house  of  a  hospitable  Gentile. 

Beaver  had  been  revolutionized  by  the  development  of  mines. 
Gentiles  were  to  be  seen  every-where,  and  a  military  post  had  been 
established  near  town.  Thence  by  stage  it  was  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  to  "  Zion ; "  and  I  was  pleased  to  recognize,  in  the  first  driver, 
my  old  friend  Will  Kimball,  who  drove  a  team  across  the  Plains  in 
the  train  with  me  in  1868.  Kimball's  father  was  one  of  the  many 
arrested  the  previous  winter  on  charges  relating  to  the  conduct  of  the 
Mormon  militia  in  the  rebellion  of  1857,  but  was  released  with  a 
hundred  and  twenty  others,  when  the  Supreme  Court  reversed  Judge 
McKean's  rulings.  In  the  progress  of  Utah  affairs,  nearly  all  of  the 
family  left  by  old  Heber  Kimball  have  become  pretty  good  Gentiles. 
This  seems  to  be  the  course  of  all  such  delusions  which  do  not  end  in 
blood. 

I  halted  for  a  day's  rest  at  Fillmore,  the  old  Territorial  capital, 
a  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  south-west  of  Salt  Lake,  and  quite  a 


WESTERN  WILDS. 

beautiful  town.  Several  wealthy  Mormons  reside  here,  in  elegant 
brick  and  stone  houses,  and  the  place  is  old  enough  for  all  the  shade 
trees  and  shrubbery  to  have  attained  a  good  growth.  Some  thirty 
miles  west  of  Fillmore  is  a  remarkable  mountain  peak,  or  rather 
round  heap  of  cinders  and  lava,  five  hundred  feet  high.  It  is  broken 
square  across  by  a  gulch  with  almost  perpendicular  sides,  at  the  bottom 
of  which  is  a  spring  that  is  coated  with  ice  around  the  edges  for  eleven 
months  in  the  year.  The  altitude  is  no  higher  than  that  of  Fillmore, 
but  the  sun  never  shines  in  the  gorge,  and  snow  lies  on  the  inner  slopes 
all  the  year. 

Thence  two  days'  slow  staging  brought  me  to  "Zion,"  which  I 
f  cached  on  the  evening  of  July  21st,  exactly  four  months  from  the 
day  I  left  St.  Louis  for  a  tour  through  the  Southern  Territories.  In 
that  time  I  had  traveled  fourteen  hundred  miles  by  rail,  six  hundred 
by  stage,  three  hundred  by  military  wagon,  two  hundred  on  foot,  and 
six  hundred  on  horseback — at  a  total  cost  of  $535.  I  reached  "Zion" 
iu  splendid  health,  but  complete  disguise,  if  I  am  to  judge  from  the 
conduct  of  my  friends,  many  of  whom  passed  me  on  the  street  without 
a  nod,  or  with  only  a  slight  look  of  curiosity,  as  if  some  old  and  half- 
forgotten  memory  were  stirred  by  sight  of  a  face  that  "  had  a  sort  o' 
familiar  look."  However,  after  a  bath  in  the  warm  springs,  getting 
off  my  buckskin  pantaloons,  spangled  Mexican  jacket,  and  Navajo 
scarf,  and  donning  a  new  summer  suit,  my  fingers  received  once  more 
the  wonted  squeeze,  and  once  more  I  began  to  feel  very  like  a  Christian. 

It  was  on  this  journey  through  Southern  Utah,  and  after  my  arrival 
in  "  Zion,"  that  I  heard  narrated  the  personal  experiences  which  are 
combined  in  the  three  succeeding  chapters. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE    FAIR   APOSTATE. 

MERRILY  rang  the  bells  of  Church,  Herefordshire,  in  the 

merry  month  of  May,  1847;  for  Nixy  James,  the  belle  of  the  hamlet, 
was  that  day  to  be  married  to  Elwood  Briarly,  the  sturdiest  young 
yeoman  on  all  the  country  side.  The  elder  James  and  Elwood's  father 
had  grown  from  childhood  together:  intimate  companions  and  fierce 
rivals  for  the  lead  among  the  village  politicians,  partners  in  public 
sports  and  at  the  village  tavern,  but  never,  by  any  possibility,  on  the 
same  side  of  any  exciting  question.  Thomas  James,  cobbler,  was 
often  heard  to  declare  that  Yeoman  Briarly  would  "  contradict  for 
contradiction's  sake — he'd  argefy  wi'  t'  clock  on  t'  church  steeple, 
rather  than  go  wi'out  argefying;"  while  the  yeoman,  on  his  part,  in- 
sisted that  James  "  was  aye  runnin'  after  every  dashed  new-fangled 
notion  that  come  along."  He  couldn't  see  why  simple  folk  like  us 
couldn't  be  content  wi' t'  old  church  and  t'  old  laws,  and  not  take  up 
wi'  every  outlanguaged  kickshaw  from  France  or  'Merica  or  other 
foreign  parts."  For  his  part,  give  him  the  British  Constitution. 

Nay,  the  difference  was  in  the  blood;  for  James'  great-grandfather 
was  a  hot  adherent  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  while  the  Briarlys  had 
stood  by  the  "Lord's  Anointed,"  and  remained  zealous  Jacobites  even 
down  to  the  coming  in  of  the  House  of  Brunswick.  They  held  to 
legitimacy  long  after  Church,  Lords,  and  Commons  had  forgotten  it; 
but  the  James'  had  ever  three  bogies:  a  papist  king,  an  Irish  rising 
and  a  French  invasion.  Now  it  so  happens  that  a  whole  people  can 
not  always  be  scared  into  submission  by  Irish  risings  and  French  in- 
vasions ;  and  so,  by  and  by,  new  and  perplexing  questions  arose,  and 
certain  pestilent  fellows  began  to  talk  about  "more  liberty,"  and 
"  household  suffrage,"  and  the  "  rights  of  the  people."  It  was  an  ex- 
traordinary proceeding  on  their  part,  andx  Yeoman  Briarly  stoutly  pro- 
tested no  good  could  come  of  it;  but,  in  spite  of  him,  he  would  have 
told  you  the  James'  family  and  all  their  adherents  went  crazy.  But 
it  never  shook  him.  Oh,  no ;  he  planted  himself  firmly  on  the  Con- 
stitution, and  defied  the  world  to  move ;  and,  when  the  others  became 
Chartists,  he  declared,  with  great  positiveness,  over  his  pipe  in  the  vil- 
lage ale-house,  what  Parliament  ought  to  do  to  stop  this  sort  of  thing. 

(317) 


318  WESTERN   WILDS. 

But  in  despite  of  all  this  contention,  the  young  people  persisted  in 
loving  each  other  almost  from  the  start,  and  at  last  the  blood  of  the 
Old  Radical  and  the  Old  Conservative  were  to  be  united.  And  all 
this  time,  there  was  growing  up  in  an  obscure  village  across  the  sea,  an 
ignorant,  awkward  youth,  who  talked  through  his  nose,  and  told  plau- 
sible fibs  as  naturally  as  he  breathed,  whose  career  was  to  strangely 
affect  the  blood  of  the  Briarlys  and  James'.  Across  the  sea  an  insti- 
tution was  born  which  wras  to  change  the  current  of  all  these  simple 
lives  in  a  way  the  wrisest  little  dreamed  of. 

The  ceremony  was  ended,  the  shoe  was  thrown,  the  village  maidens 
strung  garlands  for  the  bride ;  there  was  the  feast,  the  dance,  and  all 
the  simple  pleasantry  of  the  middle  class  of  English  farmers.  One 
year  Elwood  Briarly  rejoiced  in  the  society  of  his  young  wife — one 
year  of  continued  courtship.  Then  came  a  season  of  trial,  happily 
ended,  said  the  nurse  and  doctor ;  and  an  infant  daughter  was  laid  in 
the  arms  of  the  proud  father.  A  perfect  little  manikin  it  was,  with 
the  orthodox  creases  in  its  perfect  little  feet,  and  all  the  orthodox  lines 
on  its  perfect  little  face,  by  which  wise  matrons  so  infallibly  fix  the 
resemblance  to  either  parent :  a  precious  little  life  wrapped  up  in  a 
perfect  little  anatomy.  But  the  primal  curse  still  rests,  even  on  the 
head  of  the  hardy  English  woman.  The  weight  of  the  precious  fruit 
broke  the  parent  stem,  and  the  life  of  the  plant  exhaled  in  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  opening  flower.  Nixie  Briarly  only  saw  that  her  babe  had 
started  well  in  this  world,  then  bade  her  weeping  husband  good-bye, 
and  fell  asleep. 

To  him  it  seemed  that  all  which  made  life  worth  having  was  gone. 
His  had  been  no  sudden  affection;  for  long  years  Nixie  had  been 
central  to  all  his  plans,  and  now  there  seemed  nothing  worth  exer- 
tion. His  daughter — he  could  scarcely  say  at  first  that  he  loved  her — 
strange  pain !  She  seemed  to  him  almost  as  a  living  reproach. 
Months  passed,  and  it  was  remarked  that  he  was  "  slack  ; "  his  hand 
had  lost  its  cunning,  and  words  of  pity  were  heard.  Months  again 
passed,  and  it  was  remarked  that  he  went  often  to  the  village  ale- 
house, and  this  time  the  word  of  pity  was  accompanied  with  an 
ominous  shake  of  the  head.  But  the  current  of  common  life  flowed  on 
too  fast  for  others  for  them  to  turn  aside  to  cheer  him.  Old  yeomen, 
on  their  way  home  from  church,  leaned  over  the  fence  to  look  at  the 
little  farm  he  held  on  lease;  and  while  you  might  have  thought  them 
pondering  on  the  preacher's  words,  the  real  thought  behind  those 
heavy,  unexpressive  eyes  was,  "When  will  it  be  to  lease?"  At  the 
ale-house  he  sat  apart,  a  moody  man;  and  it  was  surprising  how 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  319 

soon  his  old  companions  learned  to  do  without  him,  and  he  dropped 
into  the  ranks  of  the  half-forgotten.  All  at  once  it  began  to  be 
whispered  that  Elwood  Briarly  was  drinking  a  great  deal;  and  then 
that  he  was  drinking  altogether  too  much,  and  very  soon  after,  that 
he  was  a  drunkard,  and  in  an  amazingly  short  space  of  time  that  he 
was  an  abandoned  drunkard,  and  that  his  late  lease  was  vacated  and 
the  farm  to  be  relet.  And  so  it  was  that  when  his  little  Marian  was 
only  three  years  old,  she  was  taken  home  to  grandfather  James,  and 
Elwood  Briarly  plunged  down,  down,  down  along  the  course  of  those 
given  over  to  the  national  vice  of  Free  (and  "  Merrie  ")  England. 

Counted  as  already  dead  by  those  nearest  him,  he  became  a  com- 
mon laborer  for  the  means  of  gratifying  his  appetite.  His  sorrow 
had  yielded  to  time,  but  now  habit  dragged  him  down.  When  reason 
asserted  her  sway  he  struggled  to  his  feet  for  a  few  days  or  weeks, 
then  fell  again,  and  each  time  deeper  than  before.  And  now  his 
habits  and  associates  had  changed  his  original  nature.  At  the  church 
or  social  gathering  he  was  never  seen;  his  only  recreation  worth  the 
name  was  at  the  workingman's  club ;  there  he  easily  learned  to  crit- 
icise every  body  but  himself,  and  to  blame  every  one  for  his  troubles, 
the  government  most  of  all.  The  genial  young  farmer  had  become 
first  a  snarling  critic,  then  a  radical,  a  cynic,  a  misanthrope. 

Again  he  struggled  to  his  feet,  and  in  one  of  his  sober  moods,  on  a 
calm  Sabbath  afternoon,  started  with  his  little  girl  for  a  stroll  upon 
the  village  common.  His  attention  was  attracted  by  a  small  group 
of  people  who  had  gathered  around  a  rude  stand,  extemporized  by 
piling  a  few  stones  together.  On  this  stood  a  man  of  peculiar  ap- 
pearance, with  what  Briarly  thought  an  unpleasant  nasal  tone,  and  a 
complexion  that  was  certainly  not  English.  "  It's  one  o'  them  new- 
fangled preachers  from  America,"  said  a  neighbor,  as  he  came  up ;  and 
for  want  of  some  better  amusement,  he  decided  to  wait  and  listen.  There 
was  a  general  air  of  critical  indifference  in  the  small  audience,  idle 
and  seeking  only  entertainment  as  they  were;  but  they  were  respectful. 
The  preacher  seemed  to  fix  his  eye  on  Briarly  as  he  pronounced  his  text : 

"  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that  giveth  to 
all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not;  and  it  shall  be  given  him." — 
JAMES  i :  5.  Slowly  repeating  the  text,  as  if  to  fix  the  meaning 
of  each  word,  the  missionary  cast  a  glance  over  his  congregation.  In 
that  sweeping  inspection  he  had  noted  those  whom  he  would  most 
likely  reach. 

"My  friends,  brethren  and  sisters,  all;  this  means  you.  It  don't 
nean  the  Pope  of  Rome  is  to  have  all  wisdom.  It  don't  mean  His 


320  WESTERN    WILDS. 

Grace  the  Archbishop.  It  means  that  you  are  to  know  for  your- 
selves, and  not  for  or  by  another.  It  means  that  you  are  to  receive  a 
witness  from  God  himself,  and  know  of  a  surety  whether  this  doctrine 
is  true.  It  is  not  for  the  rich  alone,  or  the  learned;  a  burden  is 
laid  upon  me  to  open  the  Gospel  to  the  poor  and  ignorant,  to  help 
those  who  need  it,  to  cheer  the  sorrowful,  to  lift  up  the  lowly,  to 
preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the  Lord,"  and  again  his  glance  fell 
upon  Briarly.  The  latter  was  powerfully  impressed.  He  had  lost 
his  old  friends.  He  longed  for  sympathy.  If  any  man  could  prom- 
ise him  something  better,  that  man  was  sure  of  a  favorable  hearing. 
The  preacher  continued  :  "  You  have  priests  who  tell  you  that  there  is 
no  more  revelation,  that  the  volume  of  God's  word  is  closed.  For 
eighteen  hundred  years  the  Christian  world  has  received  no  message 
from  the  Almighty:  the  heavens  have  been  shut  up,  the  Lord  has  not 
spoken,  there  has  been  no  prophet  to  inquire  of  the  Lord.  Where  is 
their  authority  to  say  this?  Where  is  it  written  in  this  book  that 
prophecy  shall  cease?  Our  fathers  did  eat  manna  in  the  wilderness, 
and  were  saved ;  but  the  bread  my  fathers  ate  is  not  sufficient  for  me. 
I  would  know  God  for  myself.  Go  ask  your  priests  for  a  witness  of 
their  mission.  They  can  not  show  it.  Eighteen  hundred  years  ago, 
they  say,  God  spoke;  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  He  loved  His 
people,  and  led  them  by  revelation.  But  now  the  canon  is  full ;  the 
world  is  wise  enough  to  do  without  the  daily  word  of  God,  and  there 
is  no  longer  a  voice  from  the  Most  High  to  guide  us !  What !  Is 
God  dead?  Is  there  less  need  of  a  living  oracle  now  than  there  was 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago  ?  Or  is  the  world  so  pure  that  a  prophet 
has  no  work  to  do?  Do  all  men  acknowledge  God,  and  worship  him, 
and  is  there  no  unbelief  that  God  should  refuse  us  a  witness?  No, 
my  friends,  I'll  tell  you  why  it  is." 

The  speaker  had  warmed  into  something  like  eloquence.  His  audi- 
ence were  impressed,  and  the  nasal  tone  which  at  first  affected  their 
English  ears  unpleasantly,  seemed  to  have  vanished. 

"  It  is  because  they  rejected  God's  plan.  They  would  not  have  a 
continuous  chain  of  revelation.  They  have  set  up  churches  in  which 
there  are  no  prophets  nor  apostles ;  they  have  not  the  gifts  of  the 
apostolic  church,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  is  not  with  them ;  they  have 
the  form  of  godliness,  but  deny  the  power.  Should  any  one  say 
to  them  that  God  had  sent  a  prophet,  they  would  cry  out  against  him. 
But,  my  friends,  God  is  not  dead.  The  heavens  are  not  brass  to  those 
who  seek  the  truth.  God,  who  so  loved  the  world  that  he  sent  his  Son 
to  save  it,  loves  us  as  much  as  he  did  the  people  who  lived  eighteen  hun- 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  321 

dred  years  ago,  and  has  sent  us  a  messenger.  As  he  spoke  to  the  saints  of 
the  former  days  so  has  he  spoken  to  the  Latter-day  Saints,  and  all  who 
will  may  know  for  themselves  that  this  message  is  from  God.  In 
America  a  prophet  has  been  called ;  the  word  of  God  has  whispered 
out  of  the  dust,  as  foretold  by  Isaiah,  and  once  more  communication 
is  restored  between  God  and  man." 

The  speaker  then  recited  the  story  of  Joseph  Smith,  his  conversion 
and  calling,  his  mission  and  martyrdom,  as  foretold  by  all  the  prophets; 
and  supported  his  doctrine  by  an  array  of  Scripture  texts  that  aston- 
ished and  fairly  overwhelmed  his  simple  hearers.  Their  experience 
had  left  them  unprepared  for  any  thing  of  this  sort.  All  their  lives 
they  had  heard  the  letter  of  the  Scriptures  distorted  in  the  petty  war- 
fare between  the  sects ;  great  principles  they  did  not  comprehend,  and, 
to  come  to  the  point,  there  was  no  reason  why  prophets  and  apostles 
should  not  walk  the  earth  now  as  well  as  in  former  times.  The  mis- 
sionary's argument  on  this  point  was  to  them  unanswerable  :  if  there 
was  wickedness  and  unbelief  in  ancient  times,  so  there  was  now ;  if 
men  needed  a  living  witness  then,  much  more  did  they  now,  when  so 
many  claimed  to  be  messengers  from  God,  and  all  differed  as  to  His 
nature  and  government.  No  text  in  the  Bible  said  that  prophets  should 
cease,  while  scores  of  texts  implied  that  He  would  not  leave  the  earth 
without  an  infallible  guide. 

Elwood  Briarly  was  powerfully  impressed.  He  was  in  the  Slough 
of  Despond,  and  the  missionary  brought  hope ;  he  was  disgusted  with 
all  about  him,  and  here  was  a  chance  for  a  new  life.  Next  day  he 
was  surprised  by  a  visit  from  the  Mormon  preacher.  The  latter  was 
totally  unlike  the  parish  priest.  He  did  not  stand  oif  and  preach  down 
at  the  poor  outcast ;  he  took  a  farming  tool  and  worked  beside  him ; 
aye,  did  task  for  task  with  him,  and  talked  only  in  the  intervals  of  work. 
He,  too,  had  known  poverty  and  disgrace ;  he,  too,  had  been  an  unfor- 
tunate and  an  outcast ;  he  had  not  walked  in  silver  slippers,  and  how 
mightily  did  he  affect  these  simple  people.  From  house  to  house  he 
went,  resolving  doubts,  urging  proof  texts,  preaching  and  debating;  and 
sitting  by  their  humble  firesides  of  an  evening,  he  sang  with  unction : 

"  The  Spirit  of  God  like  a  fire  is  burning, 

The  latter-day  glory  begins  to  come  forth ; 
The  visions  and  blessings  of  old  are  returning ; 

The  angels  are  coming  to  visit  the  earth. 

We'll  sing  and  we'll  shout  with  the  armies  of  heaven, 

Hosanna,  hosanna,  to  God  and  the  Lamb  ! 
Let  glory  to  them  in  the  highest  be  given, 

Henceforth  and  forever,  amen  and  amen ! " 
21 


322  WESTERN  WILDS. 

What  wonder  that  he  prevailed  mightily  among  these  simple  people. 
What  wonder  that  the  cold,  barren,  carefully  prepared  homilies  of  the 
parish  priest  were  swept  aside !  The  emotional  faith  of  the  speaker 
went  to  the  hearer's  soul.  It  was  no  cold,  intellectual  reasoning;  it 
was  warm,  robust  feeling,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  believers  grew 
and  multiplied.  In  less  than  one  month  from  that  Sunday,  Elwood 
Briarly,  his  father-in-law  James,  and  a  dozen  of  their  neighbors  were 
baptized  into  the  Mormon  Church,  and  eager  to  set  out  for  "  Zion." 

But  between  them  and  Salt  Lake  City  intervened  many  months  of 
work  for  the  cause.  And  now  the  whole  aim  of  their  lives  was 
changed.  Preaching  and  working,  at  home  or  abroad,  all  was  for  the 
Church;  their  talk  was  of  "visions  and  dreams,"  "the  ministering  of 
angels,"  "  tongues  and  the  interpretation  of  tongues,"  "  healings  and 
miracles."  And  so  it  was,  that  by  the  opening  months  of  1856,  this 
little  band  of  Saints  was  ready  for  the  long  journey  to  "  Zion." 
Old  Man  James  was  beside  himself  with  joy  at  thought  that  all  his 
dreams  were  soon  to  be  realized;  that  Brotherhood  of  Man,  that  free- 
dom he  had  vainly  sought  in  Chartism,  was  to  be  realized  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  where  God's  people  were  to  live  under  the  mild  rule  of 
prophets  and  apostles.  Such  an  idea  captivated  thousands  of  young 
Englishmen.  To  them,  Utah  was  a  land  where  all  legal  hardships 
were  to  be  cured,  and  all  men  to  be  equal ;  and  the  spirit  of  brotherhood 
among  the  British  saints  at  this  time,  to  which  all  observers  bear  wit- 
ness, they  thought  only  a  foretaste  of  the  perfect  oneness  in  Christ 
which  was  to  prevail  in  Utah.  In  this  spirit  our  friends  gathered  to 
Liverpool,  where  it  was  announced,  through  the  columns  of  the  Mil- 
lennial Star,  that  God,  by  His  servant  Brigham,  had  devised  a  cheaper 
and  better  way  of  reaching  Utah ;  the  Saints  were  to  travel  from  the 
frontiers  on  foot,  and  take  their  necessary  baggage  on  hand-carts. 
But  what  can  shake  a  fervent  and  fooling  faith?  Without  a  murmur 
of  dissent  the  waiting  hundreds  crowded  on  the  vessel  chartered  by 
the  Mormon  agents,  and,  grouped  on  the  deck  as  the  vessel  started  on 
their  way,  they  sang  with  a  tone  that  resounded  o'er  the  waves : 

"  Oh,  my  native  land,  I  love  thee ; 
All  thy  scenes  I  love  them  well ; 
Friends,  connections,  happy  country, 
Can  I  bid  you  all  farewell? 

Can  I  leave  thee, 
Far  in  distant  lands  to  dwell? 

"  Home,  thy  joys  are  passing  lovely, 
Joys  no  stranger  heart  can  tell  ; 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  323 

Happy  home,  'tis  sure  I  love  thee, 
Can  I — can  I — say  '  Farewell? ' 

Can  I  leave  thee, 
Far  in  distant  lands  to  dwell? 

"  Yes,  I  hasten  from  you  gladly, 
From  the  scenes  I  love  so  well ; 
Far  away,  ye  billows,  bear  me ; 
Lovely  native  land,  farewell! 

Pleased  I  leave  thee, 
Far  in  distant  lands  to  dwell. 

"  Bear  me  on,  thou  restless  ocean, 
Let  the  winds  my  canvas  swell  ; 
Heaves  my  heart  with  warm  emotion, 
While  I  go  far  hence  to  dwell, 

Glad  I  bid  thee, 
Native  land,  farewell,  farewell." 

On  ship-board  the  discipline  was  perfect.  The  new  converts  were 
distributed  in  quorums,  over  each  an  elder,  and  over  all  a  trustee  or 
apostle,  insuring  mutual  respect  and  cleanliness;  and  in  this  order  the 
emigrants  traveled  all  the  way  to  Iowa  City,  their  outfitting  point  for 
the  plains.  It  was  there  learned  that  over  two  thousand  of  the  poorer 
and  middle  class  of  converts  had  that  year  left  Europe,  all  of  whom 
were  to  continue  the  journey  from  this  point  with  hand-carts.  But 
precious  time  was  lost  The  Mormon  agent  had  neglected  to  provide 
the  carts;  they  were  now  hastily  constructed  of  imperfectly  seasoned 
wood,  and  the  whole  party  set  out  joyfully  late  in  July,  and  were  soon 
strung  along  the  route  thence  to  the  Missouri  River.  The  first 
five  hundred  got  an  early  start,  and  being  largely  composed  of  young 
and  strong  men,  entered  Salt  Lake  Valley  just  as  the  first  snow  of  the 
season  was  falling.  But  our  friends,  with  their  companions,  found 
themselves  the  second  week  in  August  just  prepared  to  start  from  the 
Missouri.  Fanatical  as  they  were,  some  of  them  shrank  from  making 
the  attempt  so  late  in  the  season.  The  division  contained  five  hun- 
dred persons :  a  hundred  and  twenty  stout  men,  three  hundred  women, 
and  children  old  enough  to  walk,  and  seventy  babies  to  be  carried  by 
their  mothers  or  hauled  upon  the  carts — this  party  starting  to  traverse 
eleven  hundred  miles  of  mountain  and  desert  in  the  closing  months  of 
the  season!  Totally  ignorant  of  the  country  and  climate,  the  converts 
were  eager  to  go  on  to  "  Zion,"  but  there  were  four  of  the  leaders  who 
had  been  to  the  valley,  and  others  at  Florence  attending  to  the  emi- 
gration. Incredible  as  it  may  appear,  all  these  urged  them  on  but  one; 
Levi  Savage  used  his  common  sense  and  knowledge  of  the  country, 
but  was  rebuked  by  the  elders,  who  prophesied,  in  the  name  of  Israel's 


324  WESTERN   WILDS. 

God,  that  not  a  flake  of  snow  should  fall  upon  them.  "  You  will  hear 
of  storms  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  but  a  way  will  be  opened  for 
you,"  Each  hundred  was  then  put  under  charge  of  a  captain ;  to  each 
hundred  there  were  nve  round  tents,  twenty  persons  to  a  tent ;  twenty 
hand-carts,  one  to  five  persons,  and  one  "  prairie  schooner  "  drawn  by 
three  yoke  of  oxen,  to  haul  the  tents  and  provisions.  All  the  clothing 
and  bedding,  seventeen  pounds  to  each  person,  and  all  the  cooking 
utensils,  were  upon  the  hand-carts,  besides  a  hundred  pound  sack  of  flour 
to  each.  Thus  equipped,  rested  by  the  delay  and  "  strong  in  the  promise 
of  the  Lord  by  the  mouth  of  His  elder,"  the  second  division  set  out 
from  the  Missouri  the  18th  of  August,  singing  in  cheerful  concert : 

"  A  church  without  a  prophet  is  not  the  church  for  me ; 
It  has  no  head  to  lead  it,  in  it  I  would  not  be; 

But  I've  a  church  not  built  by  man, 

Cut  from  the  mountain  without  hand, 

A  church  with  gifts  and  blessings,  oh,  that's  the  church  for  me, 
Oh,  that's  the  church  for  me,  oh,  that's  the  church  for  me. 

"  The  God  that  others  worship  is  not  the  God  for  me; 
He  has  no  parts  nor  body,  and  can  not  hear  nor  see; 
But  I've  a  God  that  lives  above, 
A  God  of  Power  and  of  Love, 
A  God  of  Revelation,  oh,  that's  the  God  for  me. 

"  A  church  without  apostles  is  not  the  church  for  me ; 
It's  like  a  ship  dismasted  afloat  upon  the  sea; 
But  I've  a  church  that's  always  led 
By  the  twelve  stars  around  its  head, 
A  church  with  good  foundations,  oh,  that's  the  church  for  me. 

"  The  hope  that  Gentiles  cherish  is  not  the  hope  for  me, 
It  has  no  hope  for  knowledge,  far  from  it  I  would  be ; 

But  I've  a  hope  that  will  not  fail, 

That  reaches  safe  within  the  vail, 
Which  hope  is  like  an  anchor,  oh,  that's  the  hope  for  me." 

But  neither  hope  nor  faith  changed  the  harsh  climate  of  the  high 
plains  and  wind-swept  plateaus ;  and  seven  weeks  of  travel  left  our 
friends  still  four  hundred  miles  from  "  Zion,"  in  the  heart  of  the  high 
Rockies,  almost  out  of  provisions,  worn  down,  sick,  apparently  for- 
gotten of  God  and  abandoned  by  man.  It  was  then  the  inborn  noble- 
ness of  the  English  race  shone  out.  Men  toiled  on  day  after  day, 
hauling  and  even  carrying  women  and  children,  wading  ice-cold 
streams  with  the  feeble  in  their  arms,  in  many  cases  carrying  their 
little  children  in  the  morning  and  themselves  dying  before  night. 
Fainting  fathers  took  the  scant  rations  from  their  lips  and  fed  their 
crying  children;  mothers  carried  their  babes  till  they  sank  exhausted 
in  the  snow,  and  young  men  nerved  themselves  to  suffer  every  thing 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE. 


325 


for  those  they  loved.  Briarly  had  never  known  how  much  he  loved 
his  little  Marian  till  then.  Daily  the  image  of  her  mother  grew  in 
her  face,  and  hourly  he  felt  the  agony  of  death  lest  he  should  leave 
her  corpse  in  the  wilderness.  At  times  pushing  his  hand-cart  with 
her  weight  added  to  his  regular  load;  at  times  wading  the  cold  mount- 
ain streams  with  her  clasped  to  his  bosom,  and  yet  again  assisting 
others  whose  husbands  or  fathers  had  died  on  the  way,  he  showed 
that  a  false  faith  had  not  yet  corrupted  nature.  Day  after  day  the 


"  WHOSE  EXISTENCE  FROM  DECEMBER  TILL  MAY  IS  ORGANIZED  FAMINE  AND  MISERY." 

train  struggled  on  in  silence  and  sorrow,  and  every  morning  saw  from 
one  to  ten  of  their  number  cold  in  death.  Daily  the  survivors  grew 
weaker  from  exposure  and  insufficient  food :  old  men  died  as  easily  as 
a  lamp  goes  out  when  the  oil  is  exhausted ;  women  died  as  a  child 
goes  to  sleep ;  young  men  died  sitting  by  the  camp-fire,  with  their 
scant  rations  in  their  mouths.  Still  the  survivors  pressed  on,  though 
every  day  more  slowly:  by  day  pierced  by  the  keen  winds,  or  happily 
sheltered  a  little  by  the  mountain  pines;  by  night  shivering  and  moan- 
ing in  a  miserable  sleep,  cheered  only  by  the  long  drawn  and  melan- 
choly howl  of  the  coyote. 


326  WESTERN   WILDS. 

The  regular  winter  storms  struck  them  at  Rocky  Ridge,  but  not 
until  the  first  relief  company  from  Salt  Lake  City  had  reached  them. 
In  their  worst  extremity  some  had  even  accepted  charity  from  the 
wretched  Goshoots,  whose  existence  from  December  till  May  is  organ- 
ized famine  and  misery.  But  help  came  too  late  for  one  of  our 
friends.  Old  Man  James  had  borne  up  long  and  well.  The  day  the  first 
storm  of  winter  came  he  sank  by  the  wayside  with  scores  of  others. 
John  Chislett,  commander  of  this  hundred,  took  off  his  own  blanket 
and  wrapped  it  around  his  older  and  weaker  brother;  and  a  few 
hours  later  the  relief  party  brought  him  into  camp.  They  warmed* 
and  chafed  his  cold  limbs,  and  pressed  food  upon  him ;  but  his 
thoughts  were  far  away.  He  babbled  of  green  fields,  and  the  hawthorn 
along  the  English  lanes;  of  the  village  ale-house  and  the  Chartist's 
Club,  of  his  little  Nixie,  still  a  child,  as  he  thought.  This  recalled  his 
later  experience,  and  starting  up,  he  cried:  "My  curse,  my  eternal 
curse  on  those  who  brought  us  from  our  English  home ;"  then  fell 
back  with  glazing  eye  and  stiffening  jaw. 

The  Old  Radical  had  found  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  at  last. 

But  Brigham's  kingdom  had  lost  a  subject. 
#  *  *  *  *  »  <* 

While  fanaticism  was  corrupting  fresh  young  English  hearts,  the 
harsh  attrition  of  rural  life  in  the  West  was  wearing  another  hero 
into  shape.  But  who  would  have  chosen  Willie  Manson  for  a  hero 
that  spring  afternoon? — his  face  covered  with  dust,  through  which 
the  tears  were  washing  little  tracks ;  his  feet  bare,  and  his  head  half 
covered  with  a  dilapidated  straw  hat.  He  had  but  dim  recollections 
of  a  tall  and  kindly  man  who  spoke  to  him  as  "  my  boy ; "  since  then  his 
"legal  guardians"  had  made  him  more  familiar  with  the  phrase,  "that 
wretched  young  one,"  and  the  neighbors'  children  had  nicknamed 
him  "Binder,"  in  allusion  to  the  legal  tie  which  relegated  him  to  the 
authority  of  his  master.  How  have  they  wasted  their  time — those 
poets  who  write  of  "innocent  childhood?"  Cruelty  is  bound  up  in 
the  heart  of  a  child,  and  is  manifested  against  the  helpless  of  his  own 
age.  If  you  do  not  believe  it,  watch  a  group  of  school  children,  when 
a  pauper  child,  or  a  "  bound  boy  "  or  girl  is  first  sent  among  them. 

But  to-day  Willie  Manson  had  received  blows  as  well  as  harsh 
words,  and  as  he  came  across  the  fields  on  his  errand,  a  glance  west- 
ward showed  him  a  wide  expanse  of  open  country;  and  all  at  once 
arose  that  vague  longing  which  appears  to  have  moved  our  race  ever 
since  the  first  Aryan  turned  towards  sunset.  Obeying  a  wild  im- 
pulse— half  anger  and  half  a  formed  desire  to  run  away — the  boy  fled 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  327 

swiftly  across  the  fields  till  he  reached  the  high  road;  then  he  stopped, 
and,  boy-like,  with  the  reaction  came  this  thought:  "  Oh,  won't  I  catch 
it,  though,  when  I  get  home?"  Left  to  himself,  the  thirteen-year-old 
child  would,  of  course,  have  gone  back,  taken  his  punishment,  and 
perhaps  sunk  into  a  "white  slave,"  perhaps  taken  a  later  occasion  to 
fly.  But  fate  Avould  have  it  otherwise.  As  he  pondered,  there  came 
down  the  road  a  high  "prairie  schooner,"  drawn  by  four  horses; 
within  the  neat  white  cover  sat  a  cheery  looking  woman  who  held  the 
reins,  while  behind  came  two  men  driving  loose  cattle.  They  nodded 
and  smiled  in  a  way  that  warmed  the  heart  of  the  forlorn  orphan ;  but 
the  next  minute  turned  in  haste  to  head  *off  their  cattle,  who  had 
broken  into  a  wood  lot  and  were  stampeding  for  wild  freedom.  With 
a  natural  wish  to  please,  and  glad  of  some  change,  the  barefooted  boy 
ran  after  the  cattle,  and,  by  his  knowledge  of  the  locality,  assisted 
greatly  in  getting  them  past  the  next  open  piece  of  timber.  They 
thanked  him  heartily,  and  pressed  a  silver  dime  upon  him,  then  bade 
him  good-bye;  but,  to  their  surprise,  when  they  camped  that  evening 
on  the  banks  of  the  Wabash,  the  boy  was  there.  Reluctantly  the 
"movers"  consented  to  his  remaining -for  the  night,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing, fearing  the  consequences  to  themselves  of  "  harboring  a  runaway," 
they  sent  him  back.  But  to  their  amazement,  when  the  swing  ferry 
had  landed  them  on  the  west  bank,  and  they  were  toiling  up  the  west- 
ern bluff,  the  boy  climbed  out  of  the  rear  of  the  wagon-box  and  beg- 
ged to  go  on  with  them.  His  readiness  to  help  had  pleased  the  men, 
and  now  something  in  his  pleading  face  touched  the  weary  but  still 
cheerful  woman. 

"Isn't  he  like  our  Johnnie  was?  And  at  the  age  we  lost  him" — 
and  she  took  him  into  her  great  motherly  heart  at  once.  So,  with 
many  misgivings,  the  head  of  the  family  consented  to  his  accompany- 
ing them.  But  it  might  have  been  noticed  that  he  made  a  very  long 
drive  that  day,  and  camped  at  a  distance  from  any  dwelling;  that  he 
managed  to  keep  Willie  very  busy  if  any  settler  halted  to  chat  with 
the  "  movers,"  and  that  he  pressed  upon  him  a  hat  very  different  in 
appearance  from  that  he  had  worn.  And  so  it  was  that  in  a  few  days 
Willie  felt  as  if  he  had  never  known  other  friends  than  these ;  that 
the  old  life  as  a  "  bound  boy  "  was  a  dream,  and  that  he  was  to  begin 
a  new  life  away  in  the  West. 

By  this  time  they  had  emerged  into  what  seemed  a  vast  field  with- 
out a  fence,  where,  for  hours,  they  jogged  on  over  the  grand  prairie 
without  sight  of  tree  or  house.  They  crossed  the  Embarras,  the  Okaw 
and  other  streams,  threaded  their  bordering  groves,  and  were  out  again 


328  WESTERN   WILDS. 

upon  the  prairies,  then  but  thinly  settled,  of  central  Illinois.  Beyond, 
they  descended  the  gently  rolling  hills,  crossed  the  great  river,  and  in 
the  early  summer  entered  upon  the  rolling  plains  and  wooded  vales  of 
Iowa — and  still  on  and  on.  To  Willie  each  new  day  brought  surprise 
that  the  world  was  so  big;  but  still  at  evening  the  man  replied  to 
his  wife's  question :  "  I  want  to  get  out  where  I  can  have  my  pick. 
Reckon  a  hundred  miles  or  so  west  of  Iowa  City  '11  suit  me" 

At  last  the  pioneer  announced  that  "this  'ere  district  looked  new 
enough,  and  about  the  right  thing,"  and  at  noon  of  a  scorching  July 
day  they  made  camp  for  the  last  time.  Willie  had  taken  the  bucket, 
and  was  returning  from  the  creek  near  by  with  water,  when  suddenly 
there  came  in  view  the  most  amazing  caravan  he  had  ever  looked 
upon.  For  a  mile  along  the  dim  wagon  track  there  straggled  in 
strange  array  men,  women,  and  children,  all  panting  and  sweating 
under  the  hot  sky  of  an  Iowa  July  noon.  Here  and  there  were 
heavy  wagons  drawn  by  oxen ;  but  most  of  the  vehicles  were  rude 
carts  with  shafts  attached,  and  in  those  shafts — how  could  the  little 
American  believe  his  eyes? —were  actually  women  and  men,  not  ex- 
actly harnessed  like  brute  beasts,  but  pushing  or  pulling  at  the  heavy 
loads.  Dripping  with  sweat  and  begrimed  with  dust,  all  ages  and 
sexes  still  seemed  eager  to  press  on ;  little  children  ran  beside  the 
carts,  while  babies  slumbered  on  the  p'iles  of  bedding,  or  hung  upon 
the  breasts  of  bronzed  and  weary  mothers.  Behind  came  the  more 
weary,  and  with  them  a  man  who  appeared  to  be  in  command,  urging 
them  on;  and  among  the  last  came  a  man  who  pushed  a  cart  before 
him  and  pulled  another  from  behind,  while  a  little  girl  walked  beside 
him  crying  to  ride. 

"What's  the  matter,  little  girl?"  said  the  boy,  finding  his  tongue  at 
last.  The  child  hushed  on  the  instant,  but  still  lingered  as  if  wanting 
to  talk. 

"Where  are  you  going,  little  girl?" 

"To  Zion — to  build  up  the  kingdom  of  God." 

The  boy  was  positively  frightened.  What  could  this  strange  little 
creature  mean.  But  before  he  could  ask,  she  whimpered :  "  Oh,  I  am 
so  tired." 

This  was  something  Willie  could  understand  very  well ;  and  it  was 
not  half  so  bad  to  his  mind  as  the  other,  for,  like  most  children  who 
have  been  under  severe  authority,  he  literally  "feared  God."  To 
him  any  other  prospect  was  more  pleasant  than  going  to  the  "  king- 
dom," as  he  understood  it.  But  while  he  gazed  at  the  little  one,  and 
in  his  boyish  way  wondered  and  speculated,  the  advance  of  the  caval- 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  329 

cade  had  halted  for  midday  at  the  creek  j  and  he  followed  with  the 
weary  child,  who  seemed  all  at  once  to  have  acquired  great  confidence 
in  him.  Meanwhile  the  pioneer  had  been  down  to  talk  with  the  party, 
and  Willie  had  to  bid  his  little  acquaintance  good-bye  and  hurry  back. 

"And  who  are  they,  any  how?"  said  the  wife. 

"  Oh,  a  set  of  d — d  fool  Mormons,"  replied  the  matter-of-fact 
Hoosier — "  they  say  they're  a  goin'  to  Zion.  More  likely  goin'  to 
the  devil,  startin'  out  the  way  they  are." 

But  Willie  had  in  mind  his  little  friend  of  an  hour,  and,  after  much 
pondering,  concluded  that  she  must  be  a  "  bound  girl "  as  he  had  been 
a  "  bound  boy,"  and  that  some  harsh  master  was  taking  her  away  from 
home;  so,  with  the  good  woman's  permission,  he  gathered  up  some 
delicacies  left  from  their  dinner,  and  ran  down  to  offer  them  to  the 
little  girl.  He  listened  to  the  talk  of  the  elders,  but  it  was  a  strange 
jargon  to  him;  there  was  so  much  about  "wicked  Babylon,"  and 
"God's  wrath,"  and  "the  last  days,"  that  he  was  frightened  again, 
and  could  hardly  say  whether  he  was  glad  or  sorry  when  the  cool  of 
the  day  came  on  and  the  strange  party  set  out  again.  But  the  vision 
remained  long  in  his  memory;  and  months  after  he  astonished  his 
patron  by  suddenly  asking:  "Who  are  Mormons,  anyhow?  and  why 
don't  they  use  teams  just  like  folks?" 

A  year  passed,  and  the  boy  was  again  moving  westward.  A  year 
had  done  wonders  in  strengthening  his  body ;  he  was  already  known 
as  a  skillful  driver,  and  when  a  train  set  out  to  haul  provisions  to  the 
army  in  the  mountains,  he  was  promoted  to  the  management  of  "one 
span  "  and  a  "  light  outfit."  "  Three  span  outfits,"  on  such  a  route  as 
that,  were  reserved  for  men.  Need  I  recount  the  incidents  of  that  dis- 
astrous autumn  and  winter  of  suffering?  Our  army,  marching  care- 
lessly and  without  a  thought  of  resistance,  allowed  the  Mormon  troops 
to  run  off  their  stock,  and  render  them  helpless  on  the  inhospitable 
plains  of  Bridger.  There  the  train  to  which  Willie  was  attached  found 
them  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  but  for  this  timely  arrival  they  must 
have  suffered  for  food.  The  winter  dragged  on  in  misery  and  ex- 
posure; but  fortune,  which  had  denied  our  little  hero  almost  every 
thing  else,  had  at  least  given  him  a  rugged  constitution,  and  he  lived 
through  a  season  when  strong  men  drooped  and  died.  When  spring 
had  dissolved  the  snow  banks  from  the  Wasatch  passes,  and  "King 
Buchanan  had  come  to  his  senses,"  as  Mormon  history  expresses  it, 
peace  was  made,  and  the  army  entered  the  Territory,  traversed  Salt 
Lake  City,  and  was  located  at  Camp  Floyd. 

And  now  came  the  era  that  was  to  decide  our  young  hero's  future ; 


330 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


for  Camp  Floyd  presented  extraordinary  facilities  for  the  ruin  of  char- 
acter, and  Willie  was  at  that  period  which  most  often  decides  one's  des- 
tiny for  time — perhaps  for  eternity.  With  the  army,  or  following  close 
after  it,  came  an  array  of  camp-followers  outnumbering  the  soldiers 
three  to  one.  Government  contracts  were  given  out  with  a  lavish 

hand,  and  money 
that  was  easily 
got  was  lavishly 
spent.  Among 
the  superior  s, 
there  was  high- 
toned  robbery  of 
the  Government 
and  the  Indians ; 
among  the  in- 
feriors, gambling 
and  quarreling, 
and  every-where 
rioting  and  fatal 
"accidents."  The 
revolver  was  in 
f r  e  q  u  e  n  t  use ; 
renegade  young 
Mormons  crowd- 
ed the  camp,  and 
the  scum  of  the 
mountains  made 
it  their  rendez- 
vous. For  two 
years  o  u  r  hero 
was  swept  along 
by  the  tide.  He 
was  by  turns 
teamster,  com- 
missary clerk, 
and  merchant's 

clerk;  but  still  preserved  enough  of  nature's  nobility  to  make  him, 
in  his  quiet  moments,  loathe  the  life  around  him,  and  long  for  a 
purer  atmosphere.  Gentile  merchants  had  opened  stores  in  the  city, 
and.  with  a  sudden  impulse  he  set  out  one  morning  to  ride  there 
and  seek  a  position.  But  the  life  he  had  lately  led  had  not  been 


SCENES  ON  THE  COLORADO  PLATEAU. 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE.  331 

without  effects.  Exposure  and  over-exertion  when  at  work,  and  dissi- 
pation instead  of  relaxation  when  at  leisure,  can  not  long  be  borne  even 
in  the  stimulating  air  of  Utah.  He  felt  every  hour  of  his  progress  a 
growing  lassitude ;  and  had  barely  entered  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  when  he  fell  from  his  horse  in  a  paroxysm  of  that  dread 
disease,  mountain  fever.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  in  his  first 
lucid  moment,  ten  days  after,  he  was  amazed  at  what  he  thought 
a  familiar  face  near  his  pillow.  He  gazed  long  and  earnestly,  and  at 
last,  despite  all  the  changes  of  four  years,  recognized  the  little  girl  he 
had  last  seen  on  the  banks  of  the  Boyer,  in  Iowa. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE   FAIR   APOSTATE — CONTINUED. 

IT  was  in  full  Tabernacle,  in  the  early  autumn  of  1856.  The  reign 
of  lust  and  fanaticism,  known  in  Utah  as  the  "  Reformation,"  had  not 
ended ;  and  at  every  meeting  fresh  schemes  were  projected  to  bind  the 
Mormons  more  thoroughly  into  a  pliable  mass,  which  might  be  "even 
as  a  tallowed  rag  in  the  hands  of  the  priesthood."  Every  Saint 
had  been  required  to  confess  the  minutest  details  of  his  past  life ;  all 
these  were  written  down,  signed  by  the  party,  and  thousands  of  them 
filed  away  by  Brigham  Young.  The  ward  teachers  had  reported  ev- 
ery case  of  real  or  supposed  heresy ;  the  accused  had  been  severely 
catechised,  and  the  incorrigible  driven  from  the  Territory — or  worse. 
A  grand  "experience  meeting"  was  now  in  progress.  Brigham 
had  pronounced  one  of  his  fiercely  denunciatory  and  sweeping  ser- 
mons, and  three  thousand  Saints,  wrought  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
fanaticism,  were  singing  the  inspiring  national  hymn  of  the  Mormon 
theocracy : 

"  In  thy  mountain  retreat 
God  shall  strengthen  thy  feet, 
On  the  necks  of  thy  foes  shalt  thou  tread ; 
And  their  silver  and  gold, 
As  the  prophets  have  told, 
Shall  be  brought  to  adorn  thy  fair  head. 

Oh,  Zion,  dear  Zion,  home  of  the  free. 
Soon  thy  towers  will  shine  with  a  splendor  divine, 
And  eternal  thy  glories  shall  be. 

"  Here  our  voices  we'll  raise, 
And  we'll  sing  to  thy  praise, 

Sacred  home  of  the  prophets  of  God ! 
Thy  deliverance  is  nigh, 
Thy  oppressors  shall  die, 

And  the  Gentiles  shall  bow  'neath  thy  rod. 

"  Oh,  Zion,  dear  Zion,  home  of  the  free ! 

In  thy  temples  we'll  bend,  all  thy  rights  we'll  defend, 
And  our  homes  shall  be  ever  with  thee." 

Into   this    assembly  came   Joseph   A.  Young,  second    son   of  the 

(332) 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE—CONTINUED.  333 

Prophet,  just  returned  from  a  two  years'  mission  in  England,  and  an- 
nounced that  two  divisions  of  the  hand-cart  emigrants  were  on  the 
plains,  and  in  danger  of  starvation.  Then  Brigham  roused  himself, 
and  became,  in  the  estimation  of  his  people,  indeed  "  The  Lion  of  the 
Lord."  Without  giving  his  son  a  day's  rest,  he  started  him  at  once 
on  the  return,  with  authority  to  press  all  the  wagons  and  available 
bedding  and  provisions  in  the  settlements  he  passed  through.  The 
people  contributed  gladly,  and  in  all  the  assemblies  of  the  Saints  pray- 
ers were  continually  offered  that  God  would  stay  the  storms  of  win- 
ter; but  instead  thereof,  as  though  heaven  would  rebuke  the  pre- 
sumptuous, the  storms  of  1856  (it  is  the  testimony  of  all  mountain- 
eers) came  on  earlier  and  with  more  severity  than  for  many  years  be- 
fore or  since.  The  poor  emigrants  were  brought  in  only  when  one- 
fifth  of  their  number  had  died  of  cold  and  starvation,  and  as  many 
more  been  maimed  in  various  degrees.  Among  the  fortunate  few  were 
Elwood  Briarly  and  his  little  Marian,  and  their  kinsman,  young 
Thomas  James. 

The  arrival  of  the  sufferers  only  added  to  the  prevailing  madness. 
"  Surely,"  said  fanaticism,  "  God  is  angry  with  His  people,  or  His 
promise  to  temper  the  winds  would  have  held  good;"  and  in  an 
amazingly  short  space  of  time  most  of  the  new-comers  were  as  insane 
as  the  rest — for,  indeed,  it  did  seem  that  at  that  time  all  Utah  was  per- 
vaded by  an  epidemic  madness.  Jedediah  Grant  and  Orson  Hyde 
ranged  the  Territory,  breathing  out  threats  ugainst  dissenters,  and 
teaching  bloody  doctrines  in  figures  of  speech.  The  New  Testament 
was  laid  aside;  Hebraic  precedents  only  were  cited:  Phinehas,  who 
killed  his  brother  and  the  Midianitish  woman;  Jael,  who  slew  the 
heathen ;  the  king  who  massacred  idolaters,  and  the  priest  who 
hewed  the  transgressor  in  pieces  before  the  Lord.  "  The  time  is  nigh 
at  hand,"  said  Grant,  "  when  we  will  walk  up  and  down  these  streets 
with  the  old  broadsword  and  say,  'Are  you  for  God?' — and  whoever 
is  not  will  be  hewn  down  !"  Marrying  and  giving  in  marriage  went 
on  constantly,  as  fast  as  the  ordained  officials  could  put  the  Saints 
through  the  Endowment  House  ceremonies  proper  to  "  plural  mar- 
riage." Every  eligible  woman  in  the  Territory  was  appropriated,  and 
girls  of  twelve  and  fourteen  years  were  "sealed  "  to  old  elders.  In  one 
month  after  he  entered  the  city,  in  six  months  after  he  was  an  honest 
citizen  of  Christian  and  monogamous  England,  Elwood  Briarly  was 
the  "husband"  of  two  girls  who  came  with  him  in  the  hand-cart 
company. 

Where  now  were  the  lofty  ideals  with  which  the  English  Saints  had 


334  WESTERN  WILDS. 

left  home?  The  old  Radical  who  dared  all  for  greater  freedom,  was 
food  for  the  wolves  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  young  Radical  who 
sought  a  land  where  men  were  free  in  Christ,  was  now  the  subject  of 
the  worst  despotism  on  earth.  The  maidens  \vho  "  fled  from  Babylon 
because  of  its  corruptions,"  were  prostitutes  in  the  name  of  high 
heaven;  and  the  Saxon  yeoman,  who  boasted  that  "the  Briarlys 
served  no  man  and  feared  no  officer,"  was  now  the  slave  of  lust  and  of 
Brigham,  and  a  virtual  criminal  by  the  laws  of  his  adopted  country. 
That  brotherly  communion  of  the  Saints,  which  had  so  warmed  their 
hearts  in  old  England,  they  were  never  to  realize  again  in  Utah ; 
the  British  elders,  who  had  labored  long  to  build  up  the  Church  abroad, 
soon  found  they  had  sold  themselves  for  naught,  but  could  not  be  re- 
deemed even  at  a  great  price.  Many  of  them  mourned  secretly  for 
years,  and,  when  deliverance  came,  were  too  much  broken  in  spirit  to 
avail  themselves  of  it.  To  them  Mormonism  has  proved  the  loss  of  all 
honorable  ambition  for  this  world,  and  only  the  skeptic's  hope  for  the 
next. 

The  madness  of  the  "Reformation"  wore  itself  out,  and  the  plenti- 
ful harvest  of  1857  made  Utah  prosperous.  On  "  Pioneers'  Day," 
July  24th,  thousands  of  Saints  were  joyously  celebrating  the  settlement 
of  the  country  in  Cottonwood  Canon,  when  suddenly  arrived  two  eld- 
ers from  the  States>  with  the  announcement  that  President  Buchanan 
had  removed  Brigham  from  the  Governorship,  and  ordered  the  army 
to  Utah.  Brigham's  brow  darkened  as  he  said:  "When  we  reached 
here  I  said,  if  the  devils  would  only  give  me  ten  years,  I'd  be  ready  for 
them ;  they've  taken  me  at  my  word,  and  I  am  ready."  The  people 
were  called  together,  and  a  defensive  war  declared.  All  Utah  was 
soon  in  a  buzz  of  warlike  preparation.  Briarly  bid  his  wives  good- 
bye, shook  their  two  right  hands  and  kissed  their  four  lips,  and  was 
off  for  Echo  Cafion  with  two  thousand  armed  Saints,  to  drive  the  Gen- 
tile army  from  the  borders  of  Zion.  They  were  wonderfully  success- 
ful. The  little  brigade,  under  command  of  Colonel  Albert  Sidney 
Johnston,  was  scarcely  a  match  for  the  wild  riders  of  Utah,  who 
knew  every  caflon  and  gorge  in  the  Wasatch.  The  Mormon  boys 
rode  at  full  speed  down  hill-sides  where  a  cavalryman  dared  not  vent- 
ure at  a  walk;  and  finding  the  army  wagons  parked,  and  their  cattle 
herded  in  the  vegas  on  Ham's  Fork,  they  set  fire  to  the  tall  grass,  and, 
when  the  smoke  had  obscured  the  view,  dashed  across  the  burning 
plain  and  drove  off  a  thousand  of  Uncle  Sam's  cattle. 

A  few  such  exploits  as  this  filled  the  Mormons  with  a  vainglorious 
pride,  scarcely  yet  abated ;  and  many  a  Saint  even  now  tells  with  a 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED. 


335 


joyful  glow  how  "  the  hirelings  of  King  Buchanan  gave  back  before 
the  Mormon  boys."  Winter  found  the  Gentile  army  on  the  bleak 
plains  of  Bridger,  unable  to  move,  and  nearly  all  the  Mormon  soldiers 
went  home  to  enjoy  the  gayest  winter  Utah  has  ever  passed.  Songs, 
sermons  and  dances,  varied  by  glowing  prophecies,  kept  them  in 


"  DASHED  ACROSS  THE  BURNING  PLAIN." 

splendid  humor  with  themselves.  No  people  in  an  equal  space  of 
time  ever  produced  so  much  bad  poetry  as  the  Mormons ;  but  a  few  /)f 
their  best  songs  have  a  ring  in  them  that  then  made  them  popular, 
especially  if  they  breathed  sarcasm  and  defiance  of  all  the  Gentile 
world.  While  the  elders  prayed  and  prophesied,  the  boys  in  the 
camps  sang: 

"  Old  Sam  has  sent,  I  understand, 

Du  dah! 
A  Missouri  *  ass  to  rule  our  land ; 

Duhdah!  Duh  dah  day! 

*  Referring  to  Gov.  Alfred  Gumming,  who  was,  however,  a  Georgian,  and  was  greatly 
enraged  when  Brigham  afterwards  spoke  of  him  as  "from  Missouri." 


336  WESTERN   WILDS. 

But  if  he  comes,  we'll  have  some  fun, 

Du  dah! 
To  see  him  and  his  juries  run, 

Duh  dah !  Du  dah  day ! 
CHOKUS:  Then  let  us  be  on  hand 

By  Brigham  Young  to  stand; 
And  if  our  enemies  do  appear, 
We'll  sweep  them  from  the  land. 

"  Old  squaw-killer  Harney  is  on  the  way, 

Duh  dah! 
The  Mormon  people  for  to  slay, 

Duh  dah!  Duh  dah  day! 
Now  if  he  comes,  the  truth  I'll  tell, 

Duh  dah! 
Our  boys  will  drive  him  down  to  hell! 

Duh  dah!  Duh  dah  day!" 

But  again  were  faith  and  hope  vain.  When  the  spring  sun  had 
dissolved  the  snow-packs  from  the  passes  of  the  Wasatch,  the  army 
entered  the  valley,  while  30,000  Mormons  were  on  their  flight  south- 
ward. Col.  Thomas  L.  Kane  had  entered  Utah  from  the  south ;  the 
Peace  Commissioners,  Powell  and  McCulloch,  had  promised  amnesty, 
and  Governor  Cumming  had  entered  Salt  Lake  City.  But  all  in  vain. 
The  people  continued  their  mad  flight  southward,  while  Gov.  Gum- 
ming stood  by  the  road-side,  tears  rolling  down  his  cheeks  at  sight  of 
their  misery,  and  implored  them  to  remain.  It  was  midsummer  be- 
fore any  considerable  number  returned;  with  them  Briarly  and  his 
family.  But  the  mad  proceedings  of  two  years  had  not  been  without 
their  influence  on  our  friends.  Thomas  James  began  to  ask  himself, 
in  all  seriousness,  if  what  he  had  witnessed  could  be  the  result  of  Di- 
vine guidance  ;  and  in  Utah  it  is  emphatically  true,  that  he  who  hesi- 
tates is  lost — to  Mormonism.  And  now  began  that  terrible  conflict  in 
the  soul  of  the  young  man,  through  which  more  than  one  apostate  has 
passed  with  tears  of  agony,  with  doubts  and  tremblings,  with  days  of 
painful  self-examination,  and  nights  of  restless  tossing  and  vain  de- 
bate. Could  it  be  that  all  was  a  delusion  ?  That  his  father  had  died 
on  the  plains,  that  he  and  those  near  to  him  were  laboring  and  suffer- 
ing— and  all  for  a  dismal  lie?  Losses  of  friends,  property,  honors,  all 
can  be  borne,  and  the  strong  man  rise  above  them ;  but  who  can  tell 
the  heart-rending  agony  of  the  devotee  who  has  lost  his  God  f 

He  scarcely  knew  why,  but  in  no  long  time  he  found  himself  in  a 
small  circle  of  those  who  suffered  in  the  same  way.  Not  that  they  sought 
each  other,  or  confessed  their  secret  doubts  at  once ;  but  little  by  little 
they  grew  to  understand  each  other.  They  labored  to  convince  them- 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED.  337 

Selves  that  there  had  only  been  slight  errors ;  that  in  the  main  the 
faith  was  correct,  and  they  would  receive  their  reward.  But  such 
self-deception  was  not  long  possible.  Chief  among  these  sorrowing  and 
doubting  ones  was  Elder  John  Banks.  He  had  early  embraced  the 
faith  in  England.  He,  too,  had  been  a  Chartist  leader,  and  thought  he 
"had  found  true  liberty  and  brotherhood  in  Mormonism.  And  now  a 
strange  friendship  sprang  up  between  the  disappointed  man  and  the 
doubting  lad.  They  walked  and  talked  together;  their  Sundays  and 
leisure  hours  they  spent  in  sad  but  pleasant  communion  over  their 
troubles,  or  in  renewed  study  of  the  "evidences"  they  had  once 
thought  so  convincing  as  to  the  divine  origin  of  Mormonism.  As 
might  be  expected,  the  younger  was  the  first  to  free  himself.  Let  what 
might  be  true,  he  knew  in.  his  heart  that  Brigham  was  not  sent  of 
God.  The  Mormon  faith  he  could  not  reject  entirely,  but  compro- 
mised on  the  idea  that  a  true  prophet  was  yet  to  arise ;  that  a  terrible 
mistake  had  in  some  way  been  made,  and  that  in  due  time  God  would 
remember  His  people.  But  the  elder  could  not  then  begin  a  new 
life;  his  heart  was  bound  up  in  Mormonism,  for  which  he  had  toiled 
so  long,  and  he  urged  his  young  friend  to  go  with  him  and  lay  their 
troubles  before-  President  Young.  Brigham  received  them  with  that 
paternal  kindness  he  exercises  towards  all  who  may  yet  be  saved  to 
the  church ;  he  doled  out  the  usual  commonplaces  about  "  faithful- 
ness," "  obedience,"  "  live  your  religion,"  and  "  pay  your  tithing." 
But  it  brought  no  healing  to  these  sore  minds.  Thomas  James  was 
already  "  apostate  in  spirit,"  and  there  was  more  in  the  sad  heart  of 
John  Banks  than  he  could  put  in  words  to  Brigham  Young. 

The  friends  visited  the  Briarlys,  and  there  saw  the  young  Gentile, 
now  slowly  convalescing.  The  younger  looked  on  him  and  thought 
of  the  great  gulf  that  separated  them.  Here  was  a  lad  but  few  years 
younger  than  himself,  but  with  none  of  his  heart-racking  doubts  and 
fears.  What  was  there  in  the  nature  of  things  which  made  him  a 
prey  to  conflicting  emotions  to  which  this  one  was  a  stranger?  Some- 
times he  hoped  Mormonism  was  all  a  delusion,  but  dreaded  lest  it 
might  be  true ;  again  he  labored  to  prove  to  himself  that  it  was  true, 
and  still  feared  that  his  hope  was  vain  ;  but  whether  he  hoped  or 
feared,  he  somehow  felt  a  strange  envy  of  his  new  acquaintance,  who, 
though  now  an  invalid,  was  at  any  rate  neither  a  dupe  nor  a  traitor  to 
his  faith.  The  whole  family  soon  took  a  strange  interest  in  the  young 
Babylonian,  whom  fate  had  brought  to  their  door.  He  could  now  sit 
up  and  talk,  and  his  talk  was  such  a  strange  contrast  to  theirs.  Secretly 
they  felt  guilty  for  taking  so  much  enjoyment  in  it,  and  yet  his  light- 
22 


338  WESTERN   WILDS. 

est  utterance  seemed  fresh  and  piquant.  They  did  not  know  it,  but 
they  were  getting  weary  of  "  Tabernacle  talk."  The  strain  they  had 
lived  under  had  worn  great  grooves  in  their  natures,  almost  without 
their  knowledge.  The  "wives"  were  not  the  fresh  and  guileless 
English  girls  of  four  years  before.  Little  by  little  they  had  learned 
to  shut  up  their  souls,  to  hide  their  inmost  nature  from  others,  even 
from  themselves.  That  extreme  reticence  which  polygamy  engenders 
had  become  a  habit;  a  habit  carried  into  all  the  concerns  of  life,  even 
where  it  was  unnecessary.  They  were  transformed,  without  knowing  it, 
from  individuals  into  parts  of  a  great  machine ;  and  though  they  some- 
times felt  a  strange  pain  and  longing,  they  scarce  knew  why,  and 
would  have  insisted  with  vehemence  that  they  were  happy  in  their 
present  relations.  To  them,  this  pale  Gentile,  who  had  seen  life  from 
the  other  side,  as  it  were,  and  now  talked  in  such  a  pleasant,  grateful 
way  of  his  past  and  hope  for  the  future,  brought  a  strange  pleasure 
that  had  in  it  a  touch  of  pain.  On  Manson  their  kindness  had  a 
great  effect.  Mormonism  he  knew  only  from  the  current  talk  at 
Camp  Floyd — a  view  altogether  presumed  and  one-sided ;  but  were 
not  these  people  humane  and  gentle  ?  were  they  not  of  his  own  race 
and  color?  And  could  that  be  entirely  bad  which  produced  such 
good  results?  And  so,  though  not  a  word  was  said  on  either  side 
about  religion,  while  the  light  utterances  of  the  Gentile  implanted 
skepticism  in  the  minds  of  the  Saints,  the  simple  kindness  of  the 
Saints  had  almost  converted  the  Gentile. 

But  none  of  these  things  touched  Elwood  Briarly.  Four  years  in 
polygamy  had  seared  the  delicate  tendrils  of  his  English  heart;  he 
was,  in  his  fanaticism,  a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews;  and  to  him  this 
stranger  was  only  to  be  aided  in  his  distress,  because  he  bore  the 
human  form,  but  quietly  gotten  rid  of  as  soon  as  possible.  And  yet 
there  lingered  one  element  of  his  best  days ;  he  loved  his  little 
Marian,  though  he  had  given  her  two  step-mothers,  and  brief  as  had 
been  that  meeting  in  Iowa,  he  still  felt  the  kindness  of  the  boy,  and 
as  far  as  might  be  with  a  Gentile,  wished  him  well.  Convalescence  in 
the  stimulating  air  of  Utah  was  rapid,  and  in  due  time  Willie  Manson 
was  able  to  seek  employment  with  a  Gentile  merchant  in  the  city, 
and  there  he  remained  two  years.  His  little  English  friend  still  re- 
tained his  friendship,  and  in  that  desultory  way,  in  which  alone  asso- 
ciation between  the  two  classes  could  then  take  place  in  Utah,  he 
occasionally  visited  and  kept  up  his  acquaintance  with  the  Briarlys. 
Thus  matters  went  on  till  the  spring  of  1862. 

But  what  strange  transformation  was  this  which  the  little  English 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED.  339 

maiden  had  undergone!  Or  was  it  really  the  same  child  he  had 
known,  and  whose  prattle  had  so  greatly  amused  him  during  his  con- 
valescence? It  could  not  be,  he  thought,  though  the  change  had  oc- 
curred before  his  eyes.  No,  she  was  no  longer  English ;  she  had  the 
trim  form,  the  delicate  complexion,  the  arched  instep,  and  the  light 
tripping  step  of  the  American  girl.  She  was  obeying  the  climatic 
laws  of  sunny  Utah,  and  not  of  foggy  England.  And  thus  have 
thousands  of  British  parents  in  that  Territory  lost  their  children. 
For  whether  it  be  due  more  to  climate,  or  to  a  change  of  fare,  or  to 
exemption  from  the  severe  toil  and  hard  life  of  the  poor  in  Europe, 
true  it  is  that  thousands  of  foreign-born  female  Saints,  themselves 
short  and  stocky,  find  their  daughters  growing  up  in  the  American 
likeness ;  and  the  young  girls  "  coming  on "  in  Utah  are  so  much 
more  handsome  than  the  young  girls  just  from  Europe,  that  the 
Saints  are  bewildered,  and  the  revelation  for  "celestial  marriage"  is 
often  set  at  naught.  But  what  was  this  other  change  which  annoyed 
the  young  man  so  greatly,  and  puzzled  more  than  it  annoyed  him  ? 
Was  not  this  his  friend,  the  same  girl  who  had  run  to  welcome  him  ? 
Why  should  she  now  avoid  him,  or  blush  and  shrink  away  when  he 
spoke?  True,  she  was  older;  but  what  is  a  woman,  he  thought,  but 
a  girl  of  larger  growth?  and  why  should  the  woman  hate  him  when 
the  girl  had  felt  so  grateful  to  him  ?  In  all  his  experience  he  had 
seen  nothing  like  it.  To  add  to  his  troubles  the  poor  fellow  was 
lonesome.  He  had  within  him  the  gentle  blood  of  that  tall,  hand- 
some, and  loving  man  whom  he  could  barely  remember,  and  he  could 
not  assimilate  with  the  rude  society  which  was  all  he  could  find  in  the 
floating  Gentile  population.  The  brief  period  in  which  he  had 
yielded  to  dissipation  at  Camp  Floyd,  he  now  looked  back  upon  with 
disgust.  He  felt  within  himself  a  capacity  for  better  things ;  he 
grew  shy  and  uncommunicative,  and  spent  his  leisure  hours  in  reading 
or  walking  about  the  pleasant  streets  of  the  Mormon  capital.  Some- 
times he  wildly  resolved  on  a  return  to  the  States,  and  again  that  he 
would  outfit  with  sonie  of  the  parties  going  to  the  "  new  diggings," 
away  up  in  the  Blackfeet  country.  Then  when  another  mood  seized 
him,  he  would  venture  on  another  visit  to  the  Briarlys ;  and  though 
he  was  sure  there  was  nothing  pleasant  in  the  sour  looks  of  the  Mor- 
mon, or  the  sad  silence  of  his  "  wives,"  and  least  of  all  in  the  shy 
avoidance  of  him  by  Marian,  still  he  would  go,  because,  as  he  thought, 
there  was  nowhere  else  to  go.  He  pondered,  and  pondered  again, 
upon  the  unpleasant  change  which  seemed  to  have  come  over  every 
body  in  whom  he  felt  an  interest,  and  his  musings  always  ended  in 


340  WESTERN   WILDS. 

one   unanswerable  question :   Why  should   his  little  friend,  who  had 
once  liked  him,  now  dislike  and  shun  him? 

But  if  all  this  was  a  mystery  to  Manson,  it  was  clear  enough  to  the 
Mormon  father,  who  had  twenty  years  more  experience  in  the  ways  of 
this  wicked  world;  clearer  still  to  the  ward  teachers,  who  visited  and 
catechised  every  family  in  their  jurisdiction  once  a  week,  and  clearest 
of  all  to  the  wary  bishop  of  the  sixth  ward,  whose  business  it  was  to 
know  every  thing  that  was  going  on  in  his  bishoprick.  They  knew, 
none  better,  the  strange  impulses  that  wake  up  in  the  transition  period 
of  life ;  they  knew  the  various  motives  that  influence  men  to  think 
they  are  serving  the  Creator,  when  they  are  only  moved  by  the 
creature.  And  now  look  out,  young  man,  for  move  which  way  you 
will,  you  are  almost  certain  to  make  a  mistake.  A  few  months  more, 
and  you  will  either  be  a  bond-servant  of  Brigham  Young — bound  to 
theocracy  by  ties  you  can  not  sever,  and  by  oaths  you  dare  not  break/ 
or  an  enemy  to  be  harassed  and  in  time  expelled. 
##  #.$###,$,.$ 

A  new  prophet  had  arisen,  and  John  Banks  was  wild  with  joy. 
Joseph  Morris,  a  simple  Welshman,  had  seen  the  heavens  opened,  and 
through  long  ranks  of  shining  horsemen  the  three  celestial  messengers 
had  come  from  the  throne  of  Eloheim  and  bestowed  on  him  the  keys 
of  this  last  ministry.  Burning  with  zeal,  he  called  on  Brigham 
Young  to  announce  his  mission,  and  was  dismissed  with  a  short,  sharp, 
and  filthy  response,  which  shocked  but  did  not  discourage  him.  Mor- 
ris at  once  called  upon  the  people  to  rally  to  the  true  standard,  and 
converts  flocked  to  him  from  all  over  the  Territory.  They  were  no 
longer  without  a  living  oracle.  Brigham  had  no  message  to  them  from 
the  skies ;  he  was  a  dumb  prophet.  Joseph  Morris  abounded  in  visions 
and  revelations.  He  was  "the  messenger  of  God,  and  the  true  priestly 
successor  of  Joseph  Smith.  To  John  Banks  this  was  the  fullness  of 
the  gospel  indeed ;  he  had  grieved  over  the  one-man  power,  and  sighed 
for  the  Brotherhood  of  the  Saints,  and  in  this  mission  he  saw  new 
hope.  For  seventeen  years  there  had  been  no  vo*ice  from  heaven,  but 
now  Joseph  Morris  had  revelations  so  fast  that  four  clerks — two  Eng- 
lish and  two  Danish — were  required  to  write  them  down.  The  re- 
proach of  the  Saints,  that  there  had  been  no  revelator  since  the  death 
of  Joseph  Smith,  was  now  taken  away ;  and  John  Banks  sought  his 
young  friend  Thomas  James,  with  the  glad  tidings.  He,-  too,  longed 
for  a  living  prophet,  and  in  a  month  was  as  zealous  a  "  Morrisite  "  as 
he  had  once  been  a  Brighamite,  and,  with  five  hundred  others,  gathered 
to  the  camp  on  the  Weber.  There  revelations,  charms,  visions,  coun- 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED.  341 

cils,  and  "speaking  in  tongues"  followed  in  bewildering  profusion.  The 
converts  followed  the  (supposed)  example  of  the  early  Christians,  and 
had  all  things  in  common.  Christ  was  to  come  and  reign  in  person  in 
a  few  months,  and  why  trouble  themselves  about  separate  property? 
At  length  Morris  announced  to  his  followers  that  they  need  plow  and 
sow  no  more ;  they  had  enough  of  grain  and  cattle  to  last  them  till 
Christ  came.  So  all  business  was  suspended  except  hearkening  to  in- 
structions, singing  hymns, 'marching  in  the  sacred  circle,  and  listening 
to  revelations.  But  the  millennium  failed  to  arrive,  according  to 
promise.  Then  arose  the  inevitable  quarrel,  and  secession  of  a  few 
members.  These  claimed  a  larger  share  of  the  common  property  than 
the  orthodox  thought  them  entitled  to,  and,  when  refused,  levied  upon 
the  cattle  and  wheat  of  the  community.  Flour  on  its  way  from  the 
mill  to  the  camp  was  seized  by  the  dissenters ;  the  dissenters  were 
seized  in  turn  and  held  in  close  custody  by  the  "  Morrisites."  The 
civil  law  was  invoked,  and  the  militia  were  ordered  out.  Once  more 
were  the  old  Chartist  and  the  young  Radical  to  be  disappointed ;  once 
more  was  fate  to  give  the  lie  to  a  prophet,  and  teach  man,  by  painful 
experience,  what  he  should  have  known  by  the  commonest  of  common 
sense.  The  devotees  of  Morris  were  soon  to  learn  what  the  devotees 
of  Brigham  are  slowly  learning — that  "who  will  not  be  ruled  by  the 
rudder  must  be  ruled  by  the  rock." 

One  fine  morning  in  June,  1862,  appeared  before  the  camp  of  the 
"  Morrisites  "  Robert  Burton,  sheriff'  of  Salt  Lake  County  and  Mor- 
mon Bishop,  with  six  hundred  armed  men  and  five  pieces  of  artillery; 
and  sent  in  by  the  hand  of  the  "  Morrisite  "  cowherd  a  demand  for  the 
surrender  of  Morris,  Banks,  and  some  others.  At  once  the  brethren 
were  called  together  in  the  bowery — an  open  shed  where  they  usually 
worshiped.  Morris  put  on  his  prophetic  robe  and  crown,  took  his 
divining  rod,  and  proceeded  to  "inquire  of  the  Lord  about  the  matter;" 
while  the  whole  congregation  of  five  hundred  men,  women,  and 
children  broke  into  a  loud  song,  an  invocation  to  the  God  of  Israel 
to  descend  in  a  chariot  of  fire  and  make  known  His  power  upon  His 
enemies.  By  this  time  Morris  had  received  the  revelation.  It 
promised  that  God  would  show  His  power,  and  to  that  end  had 
brought  the  posse  upon  them ;  that  not  a  hair  of  the  head  of  any  of 
His  people  should  be  injured;  that  not  one  of  the  faithful  should  be 
destroyed.  Scarcely  had  the  last  words  died  upon  the  air,  when  there 
was  a  sharp  whizz,  followed  by  the  boom  of  a  cannon,  then  a  scream 
from  the  upper  corner  of  the  bowery.  Two  women  fell  dead  from  their 
seats,  fearfully  mangled,  and  Elsie  Nightingale  had  her  under-jaw 


342  WESTERN  WILDS. 

carried  away  by  the  same  cannon  shot.  Never  was  prediction  of  a 
prophet  more  suddenly  and  terribly  falsified.  Ninety-three  able- 
bodied  men  were  all  the  camp  could  boast,  but  they  at  once  flew  to 
arms.  The  cannon  and  long-range  rifles  of  the  Brighamite  militia 
completely  raked  the  interior  of  the  camp,  the  people  being  hid  in 
holes  and  trenches,  while  the  "Morrisites"  had  nothing  but  common 
guns  with  which  to  reply.  Nevertheless,  they  refused  to  surrender, 
and  for  three  days,  fighting  with  the  desperate  energy  of  religious 
fanaticism,  maintained  the  unequal  battle.  The  third  evening  some 
one  raised  a  white  flag.  Bishop  Burton,  after  the  prisoners  were  dis- 
armed and  under  guard,  rode  in  among  them  and  emptied  his  revolver 
right  and  left,  killing  Morris  and  two  women,  and  mortally  wounding 
John  Banks.  Thus  ended  the  "  Morrisite  "  secession. 

A  second  time  was  Thomas  James  disappointed;  a  second  time  was 
he  the  victim  of  his  own  fervent  and  fooling  faith.  But  this  time  not 
without  recompense.  In  the  "  Morrisite "  camp  he  had  met  one  to 
whom  his  religious  nature  instinctively  paid  reverence.  A  Danish 
girl,  Christina  Jahnsen,  alone  of  her  family  had  been  a  convert  to  the 
new  prophet;  and  through  all  the  troubles  of  that  troublous  time 
the  young  Briton  had  been  cheered  by  her  companionship  and  sym- 
pathy. Now  all  was  over.  The  last  hope  of  man  for  a  living  prophet 
was  dispelled.  He  was  a  captive  with  the  rest,  and  confessed  in  his 
inmost  soul  that  he  no  longer  believed,  or  could  believe,  in  any  man 
claiming  a  mission  from  God.  For  the  rest  of  his  life  he  was  a  skep- 
tic. He  saw  that  the  woman  he  loved  was  safe,  at  least  from  personal 
danger,  then  determined  to  escape.  While  the  Brighamite  posse  were 
busy  rifling  the  houses  and  tearing  down  the  tents  of  the  captive 
"  Morrisites,"  he  sprang  into  the  bushes  and  ran  swiftly  up  the  Weber. 
A  shot  from  one  of  the  guards  cut  a  deep  flesh-wound  along  his  side, 
but  he  escaped.  To  return  to  the  settlements  he  knew  would  be  certain 
capture ;  there  was  no  chance  for  him  but  to  continue  eastward  through 
the  mountains,  till  he  could  fall  in  with  some  Gentiles  upon  the  Mon- 
tana trail.  Weak  from  loss  of  blood,  his  wound  inflamed  by  exposure, 
and  with  nothing  but  the  wheat  he  could  forage  from  the  little  patches 
on  the  Weber,  he  still  continued  his  flight.  In  Echo  Cafion,  at  the 
house  of  an  old  friend,  he  secretly  received  some  aid  and  toiled  on. 
Passing  the  Wasatch,  he  entered  on  Bear  River  Valley,  but  there  his 
strength  deserted  him,  and  he  sank  helpless  upon  the  ground.  He 
reflected  with  agony  that  he  was  off  the,  main  road  and  upon  an  obscure 
trail,  and  would  probably  lie  there  unnoticed  till  want  and  fever  had 
done  their  work.  The  pain  from  his  wound  became  unbearable.  A 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED.  343 

strange  heat  was  on  his  face.  As  the  sun  rose  higher  it  seemed  that 
his  sight  grew  dim.  The  bordering  mountains  receded,  the  plain 
seemed  to  rise  and  swallow  him  up.  Strange,  distorted  images  passed 
before  his  face,  and  he  fell  prone  upon  the  grass,  with  but  a  few  hours' 
delirium  between  him  and  death. 

$  *  *  *  #  #  *  $  .     £ 

It  was  something  of  a  surprise  to  Willie  Manson,  when  next  he 
called  upon  the  Briarlys,  to  be  received  by  the  head  of  the  family 
with  smiles  of  welcome,  though  he  could  not  but  notice  that  Marian 
left  the  room  as  soon  as  he  entered  it.  Her  father  was  flanked  on  all 
sides  by  documents:  Orson  Pratfs  Works,  The  Pearl  of  Great 
Price,  Tlie  Key  to  Theology,  The  Book  of  Mormon,  and  the  Doc- 
trine and  Covenants.  There  was  a  long  argument,  of  which  he 
understood  but  little  save  the  beginning  and  ending,  in  these  words: 
"Why  don't  you  accept  the  truth  and  become  one  of  God's  Saints?" 
If  Briarly  had  asked  him  why  he  didn't  fly  to  heaven  without  wings, 
the  question  would  scarcely  have  seemed  to  him  more  absurd.  But 
the  elder  soon  convinced  him  that  he  had  something  to  do  beside  mere 
pointless  objecting,  if  he  would  answer  the  proof  texts  cited  in  support 
of  Mormonism.  There  was  first  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Bible,  to  the 
effect  that  prophets  and  apostles  should  always  lead  the  true  church  ; 
there  was  not  a  line  in  the  Old  or  New  Testament  to  imply  that  mir- 
acles and  prophecies  should  cease;  and  there  was,  on  the  other  hand, 
this  explicit  declaration  of  Saint  Mark :  "  And  these  signs  shall  fol- 
low them  that  believe :  in  my  name  shall  they  cast  out  devils ;  they 
shall  speak  with  new  tongues;  they  shall  take  up  serpents;  and  if 
they  drink  any  deadly  thing,  it  shall  not  hurt  them ;  they  shall  lay 
hands  on  the  sick,  and  they  shall  recover."  To  this  were  added  a 
score  of  texts  promising  that  God  would  always  be  with  His  people  to 
aid  them  in  doing  wonderful  works;  that  they  should  have  ever  a 
witness  to  confound  unbelievers;  that  they  should  trust,  when  sick, 
not  in  an  arm  of  flesh,  but  call  in  the  elders,  who  should  lay  hands 
on  them,  and  that  prophecy  should  not  fail,  or  God  leave  himself  with- 
out a  witness.  Against  all  this,  where  was  there  one  text  to  show  that 
these  gifts  were  to  be  confined  to  the  apostolic  age  ?  For  two  hours 
did  Elder  Briarly  continue  this  argument,  heaping  up  a  mountain  of 
facts  and  texts  which  no  man  could  meet  who  had  not  made  theology 
a  study.  Poor  Manson  was  utterly  confounded.  In  his  trouble,  he 
happened  to  raise  his  eyes  and  glance  into  an  adjoining  room.  There, 
hidden  from  her  father's  sight,  stood  Marian,  listening  intently,  her 
gaze  fixed  upon  Manson  with  an  eager,  pleading  look  that  went  to  his 


344  WESTERN   WILDS. 

soul.  It  was  but  for  a  second.  She  was  evidently  off  her  guard.  But 
the  young  man  left  with  a  strange  pain  in  his  heart  that  he  could  not 
analyze. 

Once  away  from  the  personal  influence  of  the  elder,  his  mind  in- 
stinctively revolted  against  the  argument.  He  could  not  answer  it  ; 
but  \\efelt  that  Mormonism  was  a  fraud.  He  went  again  and  listened 
to  more  searching  arguments.  This  went  on  for  weeks.  He  rarely 
saw  Marian,  still  more  rarely  got  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  her ;  but 
instead,  he  listened  to  all  the  plausible  sophistry  of  all  the  Mormon 
apostles  and  apologists — a  whole  library  of  books  devoied  to  pervert- 
ing the  Scriptures.  He  could  not  reply  effectively,  yet  he  did  not 
believe.  All  at  once  there  was  a  sudden  change.  There  \vas  one 
visit  when  no  argument  was  offered,  and  little  courtesy  shown.  He 
went  away  greatly  disconcerted;  but  some  influence,  he  could  not 
have  told  what,  soon  took  him  there  again.  Elder  Briarly  received 
him  in  silence,  then  opening  one  of  his  works  of  "  authority,"  read  : 
"If  any  man,  having  heard  the  truth  in  its  fullness  by  the  mouth 
of  an  elder,  persists  in  unbelief,  he  is  from  that  hour  an  enemy 
of  the  faith.  From  such  withdraw  yourselves ;  for  it  is  not  possible 
that  such  companionship  should  be  profitable."  "  Young  man,"  said 
the  elder,  "  that  is  our  faith,  and  it  shall  be  my  practice.  For  the 
future — you  understand  me." 

Erelong  Manson  observed  that  some  strange  and  evil  influence  was 
around  him.  The  old  lady  with  whom  he  boarded  suddenly  declined 
to  extend  any  further  accommodations,  forcing  him  to  seek  a  distant 
and  less  convenient  place.  Soon  he  observed  that  Mormon  custom- 
ers avoided  him,  and  always  waited  for  some  other  clerk  to  attend  on 
them.  The  young  men  of  his  own  age  quietly  dropped  his  acquaint- 
ance, but  always  without  a  word  of  explanation  or  ill  humor.  There 
was  no  complaint  at  the  store,  but  his  employer  could  not  fail  to 
observe  that  this  clerk  lost  rather  than  gained  him  custom.  Strange 
changes  had  taken  place  in  Utah.  The  army  was  gone,  and  the  new 
Federal  officials  seemed  completely  under  the  control  of  Brigham 
Young.  The  nation  was  in  a  death  struggle  with  rebellion,  and  every 
Sunday  the  Tabernacle  rang  with  fierce  denunciations  of  the  Gentile 
government.  This  was  the  consumption  decreed,  this  was  the  great 
war  foretold  by  the  Prophet  Joseph,  which  was  to  avenge  the  Saints 
on  their  enemies ;  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  bloodshed  which  was 
to  lay  waste  Babylon,  and  bring  the  day  when  seven  women  would 
take  hold  of  one  man,  and  a  feeble  remnant  of  the  American  race 
come  begging  the  Saints  to  save  them  from  annihilation.  Thus  ran 


THE  FAIR  APOSTATE— CONTINUED.  345 

the  Tabernacle  talk.  It  was  a  dark  time  for  the  few  Gentile  resi- 
dents. Every  man  must  look  out  for  himself,  and  those  under  ban 
were  to  be  avoided.  In  one  month  from  his  last  conversation  with 
Elder  Briarly,  Willie  Manson  was  out  of  his  position  in  the  store, 
out  of  his  latest  lodgings,  and  in  a  frame  of  mind  desperate  enough 
for  any  thing.  In  this  mood  he  met  a  returned  Californian,  who  had 
halted  in  Salt  Lake  for  a  brief  space,  and  instead  of  going  on  home, 
had  again  been  seized  with  the  gold  fever,  and  wanted  a  companion 
to  the  northern  diggings.  In  twenty-four  hours  they  were  equipped, 
mounted  and  off,  taking  the  route  north-east  to  come  upon  the  Bridger 
trail,  and  secure  a  larger  party  to  pass  through  the  Indian  country. 
Their  fourth  day  of  leisurely  travel  they  descended  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  main  Wasa'tch,  and  turning  more  to  the  north,  aimed  for  the 
upper  bend  of  Bear  River.  Midway  upon  this  plain,  Manson  was 
amazed  to  find  lying  under  a  scrubby  pine  his  acquaintance  of  the 
previous  year,  the  Mormon  apostate  and  escaped  "  Morrisite,"  Thomas 
James. 

Hank  Beatty,  the  Californian,  was  all  impatience  to  press  on  to 
the  Montana  gold  fields.  He  had  spent  two  years  in  California,  and 
started  back  poor  as  he  came,  and  in  a  fever  to  get  home;  but  the 
older  and  more  persistent  fever  again  seized  him,  when  he  heard  of 
the  rich  discoveries  in  Montana,  and  he  became  again  that  eager,  rest- 
less mortal — a  gold-seeker.  But  Manson  would  not  leave  the  sick 
and  wounded  man.  He  transported  him  to  the  nearest  place  where 
good  water  could  be  procured  and  a  rude  shelter  erected,  and  there 
for  a  fortnight,  while  Beatty  fumed  and  fretted,  he  nursed  the  unfort- 
unate back  to  health  and  strength.  As  soon  as  he  was  able  to  ride 
slowly,  sharing  the  two  horses  between  the  three,  they  traveled  on  to 
the  Bridger  and  Fort  Hall  trail,  and  were  soon  in  company  with  a 
jolly  party  of  Missourians,  all  primed  for  adventure,  and  sanguine  of 
getting  gold  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice.  But  the  adventure  -came 
before  the  gold,  for  soon  the  whole  country  was  swarming  with  Ban- 
nocks and  Shoshonees. 

These  warlike  savages  looked  upon  the  Montana  emigration  of  1861 
and  '62  as  their  legitimate  prey.  From  the  eastern  foot  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  clear  to  the  Laramie  Plains,  the  whole  Shoshone  nation 
seemed  to  concentrate  on  this  trail;  with  them  soon  came  their  kins- 
men, the  Bannocks,  and  erelong  the  way  was  dotted  with  the  wrecks 
of  captured  trains  and  the  bodies  of  murdered  emigrants.  From 
Bear  River  northward  our  party  had  an  almost  continuous  running 
fight.  At  last  they  reached  a  section  where  sleep  and  rest  were 


346 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


almost  impossible.  At  night  they  halted,  built  fires,  and  hastily  pre- 
pared their  food ;  then  struck  off  across  the  valley,  built  another  fire, 
as  if  for  camp,  then  abandoned  it,  and  passed  the  night  on  the  high- 
est accessible  point  of  some  barren  rock.  By  day  they  grazed  their 
stock  only  on  the  most  sheltered  points,  surrounded  with  scouts;  and 


"  THE   BRIGHT    WEAPON  GLITTERED    IN    THE  AIR— BOW    AND    ARROW  FELL    FROM    LIFELESS 

HANDS." 

at  night  again  pursued  the  same  devious  course,  building  fires  and 
leaving  them,  traveling  zigzag,  taking  their  water,  almost  on  the  run, 
from  the  few  pools,  and  never  camping  near  a  stream  or  in  a  wooded 
glen,  but  traveling  the  direct  distance  twice  or  three  times  over. 


THE  FAIR  APOSTA  TE— CONTINUED.  3*7 

Now  it  was  that  Thomas  James  seemed  to  recover  his  health  of  body 
and  mind.  Danger  made  him  forget  the  past,  and  he  soon  came  to 
be  relied  on  for  every  daring  work.  At  the  last  stream  they  must 
cross  before  entering  the  mining  region,  the  savages  had  attained  the 
perfection  of  ambush ;  and  James  and  Beatty  were  sent  forward  to 
reconnoiter.  From  almost  beneath  their  horses'  feet,  in  the  worst 
part  of  the  thicket  bordering  the  stream,  rose  half  a  dozen  savages. 
Beatty  whirled  his  horse  to  the  left  and  spurred  him  into  the  timber, 
bu^  it  was  too  late  for  James  to  return,  who  was  in  advance.  Before 
him  stood  a  gigantic  Bannock,  his  arrow  on  the  bow  and  already  half 
drawn.  Could  he  have  looked  forward  a  few  years,  how  gladly  would 
he  have  welcomed  the  shot  which  should  pierce  his  heart.  But  now, 
life  was  still  sweet,  though  he  had  lost  so  much.  His  long  hunting- 
knife  was  in  his  hand.  His  spurred  animal  dashed  madly  upon  the 
savage.  One  instant  the  keen,  bright  weapon  glittered  in  the  air ;  the 
next  bow  and  arrow  fell  from  lifeless  hands,  and  the  burly  Bannock 
fell  back  into  the  pool,  which  was  fast  crimsoned  with  his  heart's 
blood.  The  momentum  carried  the  horse  forward  into  the  opposite 
thicket;  there  was  a  shower  of  arrows,  but  the  white  was  out  of 
range.  A  short,  sharp  conflict  followed;  the  savages  were  defeated, 
and  the  long  harassed  emigrants  with  joy  hurried  forward  into  the 
open  plain,  and  before  night  were  in  a  region  free  from  Indians. 

Common  danger  and  mutual  good  offices  had  bound  the  two  young 
men  together  as  with  hooks  of  steel ;  for  on  the  plains  men  long  associ- 
ated must  either  become  warm  friends  or  bitter  enemies.  Together  they 
mined  upon  the  bar,  together  they  prospected  the  lonely  cafion;  they 
shared  in  prosperity,  and  together  suffered  from  the  "stampede"  and 
disappointment  in  Sun  River  Gulch.  They  lost  property  by  the 
"  road  agents,"  and  acted  with  the  Vigilantes.  All  ,  this  time  they 
were  growing.  Four  years  amid  such  scenes  had  developed  them  more 
than  ten  of  common  life.  But  at  last  they  grew  weary  of  wild  life. 
There  were  those  who  drew  them  mightily  towards  Utah.  The  com- 
mon impulse  could  not  be  resisted,  after  they  learned  that  all  had 
changed  for  the  better  there.  The  nation  was  no  longer  at  war. 
American  soldiers  were  stationed  at  Salt  Lake  City.  General  Connor 
had  "civilized"  the  hostile  Indians  with  one  hand,  and  with  the 
other  taught  Brigham  Young  to  respect  the  Gentile  government.  The 
tide  of  overland  travel  again  flowed  through  Utah  in  a  heavy  volume. 
Thousands  of  miners  were  going  to  winter  in  Salt  Lake.  The  tide 
was  now  southward,  and  the  late  autumn  of  1865  saw  our  heroes  again 
upon  the  borders  of  Zion. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THROUGH    GREAT   TRIBULATION. 

THE  hot,  dry  summer  of  1866  hastened  on.  The  long  trains  of  the 
newly  converted  were  strung  out  from  the  Missouri  to  the  Laramie, 
and  the  deputed  Saints  from  Utah  were  on  their  way  to  meet  them. 
The  faint  green  of  the  bunch-grass  had  yielded  to  its  summer  brown, 
and  the  landscape  of  Cache  Valley  already  showed  that  the  Utah 
season  was  a  fruitful  one.  The  July  Sabbath  saw  a  gay  and  happy 
assemblage  in  Logan  Ward ;  the  harvest  had  been  plentiful,  and 
Bishop  Warren  was  alternately  thundering  against  the  ungodly,  and 
^.  thanking  the  Mormon  "Lord,"  in  the  ward  assembly  rooms.  The 
mountain  maidens  smiled  and  nodded  as  they  passed  into  the  spacious 
building;  the  Mormon  lads  collected  in  the  back  seats,  and  the  bishop 
changed  his  strain  to  a  tirade  on  "  the  laziness  of  the  young  people 
of  the  present  day."  He  told  of  digging  ditches,  building  fences  and 
making  dobies,  and  assured  them  they  must  learn  it  in  this  world,  or 
they  would  have  a  good  deal  more  of  it  to  do  in  the  next.  He  then 
branched  off  to  the  necessity  of  improving  their  stock,  paying  their 
tithing,  and  keeping  their  covenants ;  "  and,  above  all,"  said  he,  "  let 
no  man  sell  his  wheat  till  we  get  the  word  from  Brother  Brigham,  for 
these  Montana  men  must  buy  of  us,  brethren,  this  year — they  must  do 
it,  for  the  Missouri's  too  low  for  'em  to  run  up  flour  from  the  States 
that  way.  So  hold  on  to  your  wheat  till  President  Young  gives  the 
word."  After  giving  notice  where  the  best  bull  could  be  found,*  and 
reading  a  list  of  estrays,  the  worthy  bishop  announced  that  certain 
parties  "  who  had  been  for  awhile  out  of  the  Church,  would  now  be 
received  back  on  profession  of  repentance,  and  baptized  again,"  and 
concluded  with :  "  God  bless  you  all,  is  my  prayer,  for  Jesus'  sake. 
Amen." 

But  who  is  this  that  comes  to  be  rebaptized  and  taken  back  to  the 
fold,  "  having  apostatized  from  the  Saints  and  been  buffeted  of  Satan  ?" 
It  is  none  other  than  our  once  true  hero,  Thomas  James!  And  he 
is  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  The  bright  sunshine  of  the  bright  Utah 

*Fact!     This  was  a  frequent  practice  in  Utah  assemblies  when  the  author  first  went 

to  the  Territory. 

(34S) 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  349 

summer  can  add  nothing  to  the  sunshine  in  his  heart,  for  he  has 
found  Christina,  and  she  is  his  promised  wife.  But  she  is  again  a  fa- 
natical Mormon.  Her  brief  experience  with  the  "Morrisites"  had 
been  enough  of  independent  thinking  for  her  whole  life-time,  and  she 
was  again  with  her  family,  and  again  one  of  the  sister  Saints.  And 
she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever.  Her  clear  complexion  had  just 
enough  of  the  Scandinavian  tinge,  her  soft  flaxen  hair  seemed  to  the 
ardent  youth  finer  than  silk,  her  mild  blue  eye  told  of  an  affectionate 
disposition  and  faithful  heart.  But  all  was  not  pleasant.  She  was 
beautiful  to  others  as  well  as  him;  and  when  the  apostate  youth,  after 
a  wearisome  winter  in  Salt  Lake  City,  traced  her  to  Cache  Valley, 
he  did  so  only  to  find  her  sought  in  marriage  by  the  bishop.  And 
was  it  not  more  of  an  honor  to  be  the  "  bishop's  fourth  "  and  his 
"  favorite,"  as  she  certainly  would  be,  than  the  "  slavey "  of  a  poor 
mechanic,  to  "nigger  it  on  love  and  starvation?"  Such  talk  she 
heard  daily.  But  that  was  only  for  this  world.  As  for  the  next — ah, 
there  was  the  nameless  horror  she  could  not  shake  off.  For  into  the 
soul  of  every  believing  Mormon  woman  was  ground  this  sentence: 
"  If  she  will  not  abide  in  this  law,  she  shall  be  damned."  And  the 
"  Revelation  on  Celestial  Marriage  "  had  too  plainly  pronounced  the 
future  fate  of  all  who  marry  unbelievers :  "  They  shall  be  angels  only, 
and  not  gods ;  they  shall  be  servants  to  those  worthy  of  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory."  If  she  married  a  Gentile,  there 
could  be  no  "  exaltation  "  for  her  in  the  celestial  world ;  she  must  re- 
main a  servant  forever,  "blessed  with  no  increase;"  go  through 
eternity  without  a  husband,  and  be  a  hewer  and  drawer  to  other 
women  who  had  kept  the  law  on  earth.  It  was  too  terrible. 

And  so,  when  her  former  lover,  after  long  waiting,  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  her,  she  told  him  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do : 
he  must  accept  the  gospel  as  revealed  by  Joseph  Smith ;  he  must  reen- 
ter  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints,  and  live  his  re- 
ligion, that  he  might  secure  "  exaltation "  for  her  and  himself. 
"  Reenter  the  Church — be  rebaptized  ?  Why,  certainly ;  why  not  ?" 
thought  James.  All  religions  are  alike.  It  is  but  to  pay  tithing,  and 
observe  the  ordinances,  to  confess  the  errors  of  "  Morrisite  "  belief,  to 
be  "  buried  again  in  baptism,"  and  thenceforward  "  obey  counsel " 
and  run  with  the  current.  God  knows  he  had  had  a  hard  enough  time 
running  against  the  current;  he  would  let  things  take  their  own 
course  now.  What  mattered  it  ?  He  could  subscribe  to  one  belief  as 
well  as  another;  and  so,  in  sight  of  all  the  congregation,  he  owned 
his  manifold  errors,  received  absolution,  went 'down  into  the  water, 


350  WESTERN  WILDS. 

was  cleansed,  and  was  again  "  Brother  Thomas  James,  of  Logan 
Ward,  assigned  to  Brother  William  Sessions'  class,  and  to  be  fellow- 
shiped  accordingly." 

How  smoothly  sped  his  love-making  then !  How  light  appeared 
his  duties  on  the  farm  where  he  had  contracted  for  the  season's  work  ! 
How  mild  the  soft  moonlight  nights,  how  grand  the  calm  mountains, 
how  beautiful  the  crystal  Logan  River  as  it  dashed  down  the  pebbly 
rapids  near  her  home  !  Evening  after  evening  he  was  with  her.  The 
bishop  seemed  to  have  given  up  his  suit.  Her  friends,  however,  fa- 
vored the  man  of  position ;  he  was  of  assured  faith ;  this  one  might 
apostatize  again.  There  is  an  old  proverb  in  Utah,  which  has  some- 
thing to  say  about  the  "  danger  of  being  rival  to  a  bishop  ;"  but  could 
any  thing  be  more  cordial  than  the  conduct  of  Bishop  Warren  to  the 
reconverted  man  ?  Almost  in  spite  of  himself  James  was  led  on  to  open 
his  heart  more  freely  to  Bishop  Warren  than  he  would  have  believed 
possible  a  year  before.  And  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  was  not  as 
thoroughly  versed  in  some  of  the  minor  points  of  doctrine  as  a  man 
should  be  to  make  a  good  impression  on  a  bishop.  And  now  James 
was  very  much  surprised  to  find  that  two  or  three  of  his  acquaint- 
ances, young  men  of  his  own  age,  had  their  doubts  also  about  the 
truth  of  Mormonism ;  and,  though  he  would  not  have  had  the  bishop 
know  it  for  the  world,  he  conversed  freely  with  them,  and  confessed 
his  own  motives  and  mental  condition.  True,  he  knew  these  young 
men  sometimes  served  as  ward  teachers,  but  what  of  that  ?  Was  it 
not  probable  that,  like  himself,  the  very  intensity  of  their  Avork  for 
Mormonism  had  set  them  to  thinking  ?  He  knew  that  had  been  his 
own  case.  But  there  Avere  several  things  he  did  not  knoAv.  He  did 
not  know  that  on  the  soft,  AA'arm  moonlight  nights,  Avhen  he  lingered 
in  the  garden  or  grove  with  Christina,  there  AA7as  an  eye  and  ear 
not  far  aAvay,  trained  to  the  secret  service  of  the  Church ;  and  that,  as 
his  love-making  progressed,  and  father  and  mother  left  them  more  to 
themsehTes,  and  they  spent  half  the  night  in  the  cosy  arbor  back  of  the 
house,  there  Avas  a  mysterious  Avay  by  which  all  their  familiar  secret 
dalliance  became  a  part  of  the  Church  records.  No ; .  there  were 
deeper  depths  in  Mormonism  than  Avere  suspected  by  the  most  sus- 
picious English  Saint ;  and  even  now  in  Utah  not  one  in  ten  knoAvs 
the  power  that  controls  him.  But  human  nature,  especially  male  na- 
ture, is  not  changed  by  the  stimulating  air  of  Utah ;  and  so,  as  the 
warm  nights  passed,  Christina's  soft  hair  tAvined  in  his  fingers,  her 
fair  cheek  resting  on  his  bosom,  her  young  and  graceful  form  clasped 
in  his  arniB,  her  heart  gently  agitated  Avith  the  half-resisting,  half- 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  351 

yielding  pliancy  of  love,  it  strangely  happened  that  certain  lines  in 
the  "  secret  ritual "  were  forgotten,  and  the  faithful  ward  teacher,  then 
on  duty,  had  an  important  account  to  give  the  bishop  at  their  next 
meeting.  And  the  bishop  frowned,  then  smiled,  then  frowned  again, 
while  the  faithful  teacher  waited  for  his  commendation,  anol  really 
could  not  tell  whether  his  spiritual  superior  was  pleased  or  angry. 

It  was  a  mild  September  Sabbath  afternoon,  and  Bishop  Warren 
was  thundering  against  covenant-breakers.  He  grew  furious  about 
"  the  wolves  that  would  creep  into  the  fold  and  ravage  among  the  ewe 
lambs ;"  he  quoted  the  "  blood-atonement "  sermons  of  Jedediah  M. 
Grant  and  Brigham  Young,  and  called  for  a  "  show  of  hands  "  as  to 
whether  the  brethren  and  sisters  sustained  these  doctrines.  All  hands 
were  held  up,  and  again  he  threatened  the  law-breakers.  "There  are 
wolves  among  the  flock,  but  there  are  dogs  set  to  guard  it,  and  the 
dogs  have  very  sharp  teeth.*  Now,  brethren  and  sisters,  keep  your 
own  counsels.  You  all  know  what  was  done  at  San  Pete,  when  Ed- 
ward Beauvais  defiled  a  daughter  of  Zion.  And  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  the  boys  of  Logan  are  as  true  as  the  boys  of  San 
Pete.  Now,  keep  still  and  mind  your  own  business.  Judgment  will 
be  laid  to  the  line  in  Zion,  and  righteousness  to  the  plummet  in  Lo- 
gan. Ask  no  questions,  and  no  lies  will  be  told  you.  If  you  want  in- 
formation, don't  gabble  with  your  neighbors;  come  to  your  bishop. 
He'll  tell  you  what  is  good  for  you.  And  if  you  hear  any  thing 
strange,  don't  go  talking  to  your  women  about  it ;  there  are  those  set 
in  authority  by  the  Lord  God  Almighty  to  inquire  into  such  things. 
But  you  mind  your  own  business.  All  who  say  it  is  all  right,  hold  up 
your  right  hands.  [All  hands  up.]  May  the  Lord  bless  you  all,  for 
Jesus'  sake.  Amen !" 

The  afternoon  meeting  ended;  the  Saints  slowly  wended  their  way 
homeward,  smiling  and  chatting.  In  the  front  yards  and  neat  gar- 
dens gathered  the  family  groups  for  a  peaceful  evening;  the  red 
sun  sank  behind  the  Promontory  Range,  and  the  calm  of  a  Puritan 
Sabbath  settled  down  upon  Cache  Valley.  How  happy  these  people 
must  be ! — at  least  so  many  a  Gentile  visitor  has  said.  How  calm, 
how  peaceful,  how  free  from  envy,  care  and  strife ! 

But  the  dark  night  drew  on.  About  10  P.  M.  three  figures  ap- 
peared in  the  shadow  between  the  ward  meeting-house  and  the  line 
of  box-elders  beside  it.  There  was  yet  no  moon ;  still  they  kept  in 
the  shadow.  A  fourth  softly  approached. 

*  See  "  blood-atonement "  sermon  by  Orson  Hyde,  in  the  "  Journal  of  Discourses." 


352  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"Are  you  fixed,  brethren  ?" 

"  We  are,  bishop.     Which  is  it  to  be  ?" 

"  You  know — the  endowment  penalty — second  grade.  The  daugh- 
ters of  Zion  must  be  protected." 

"  But  that  is  not " 

"No  !  It  is  death — so  written;  but  this  time  the  other  will  be  bet- 
ter. You  understand  ?  Hist!" 

They  vanished  in  the  darkness. 

Thomas  James's  cup  of  earthly  happiness  seemed  full.  He  felt 
no  consciousness  that  this  was  a  world  of  errors,  and  that  he  had 
committed  a  very  serious  one.  Were  not  he  and  Christina  to  be  man 
and  wife  in  a  few  weeks,  and  would  it  not  be  all  right  then  ?  It  was 
midnight  before  he  gave  her  a  good-bye  kiss,  and  took  the  quiet  road 
down  along  the  banks  of  the  Logan  River.  The  late  half-moon  was 
just  beginning  to  peep  over  the  rugged  Wasatch,  casting  great  scallops 
of  light  and  shade  across  the  valley.  How  musically  the  river 
rippled  over  its  clear,  pebbly  bottom  !  how  pleasantly  gurgled  the  wa- 
ter-seeks along  the  road-side  !  And  how  still  was  the  peaceful  Mormon 
town ! — how  far  superior  to  the  manufacturing  cities  of  the  East, 
where  there  was  riot  and  strife,  and  sometimes  murder !  What  a  kind 
and  social  people  was  this  people !  How  little  crime  there  was  here  ! 
He  laughed  aloud  as  he  thought  of  the  absurd  stories  he  had  heard 
concerning  "the  danger  of  being  a  bishop's  rival."  And  as  the  bright 
surface  of  the  crystal  stream  shone  in  the  moonlight,  it  seemed  to  him 
a  fit  emblem  of  the  peace  over  the  land;  its  dancing  wavelets  repre- 
sented the  joy  in  his  own  heart.  Yes,  this  was  indeed  a  land  of 
peace  ;  and  if  Mormonism  was  not  true,  these  were  in  a  sense  "  God's 
people,"  among  whom  all  honest  men  were  safe. 

Ha!     What  was  that? 

Nothing,  apparently,  but  some  brother's  cow  moving  among  the  tall 
weeds.  Snapping  oif  the  head  of  a  wild  sunflower  with  his  light 
walking-cane,  he  turned  into  the  dark  grove  which  lay  between  him 
and  home.  Sharp  and  shrill  came  a  whistle  from  in  front.  He 
started  back  suddenly.  A  rope  fell  about  his  heels.  He  instinctively 
threw  up  his  hands  to  save  himself  from  falling.  A  sack  was  cast 
over  his  head.  It  was  drawn  tight  from  behind.  He  struggled  des- 
perately, but  his  mouth  was  so  bound  he  could  not  utter  a  cry.  Stout 
arms  had  hold  of  him;  they  pinioned  every  limb.  Helpless,  voice- 
less, still  desperately  struggling,  he  was  borne  away,  he  knew  not 
whither. 


THROUGH  ORE  AT  TRIBULATION.  353 

If  Willie  Manson  had  been  astonished  at  his  last  visit  to  Briarly  in 
1862,  how  was  he  amazed  by  the  latter's  conduct  in  1866!  For  Bri- 
arly had  returned  from  a  mission  on  the  Rio  Virgen,  whither  he  had 
been  sent  in  1863  "  to  build  up  the  waste  places ;"  and  he  not  only 
sought  Manson  at  the  store  where  he  had  found  employment,  but 
talked  with  such,  graceful  fluency  that  the  Gentile  was  quite  con- 
founded. He  showered  invitations  on  him  to  visit  them  at  home ;  he 
never  alluded  to  any  thing  disagreeable  that  had  passed  between 
them;  he  inquired  with  almost  embarrassing  interest  of  Hanson's  suc- 
cess in  the  mines,  and  talked  about  the  return  of  peace  in  the  States 
and  the  glory  of  the  American  nation  in  a  way  that  would  have  put 
the  warmest  Republican  in  the  shade.  Here  was  a  change  indeed. 
Why  he  did  not  at  once  accept  these  flattering  invitations,  Willie 
could  not  for  his  life  have  told.  He  was  sure  he  retained  no  malice 
against  Briarly,  as  indeed  why  should  he  ?  He  knew  of  no  harm  this 
Mormon  had  done  him,  and  he  did  recall  some  good.  And  yet  he 
did  not  at  once  accept.  He  saw  that  Briarly  was  now  an  elder  of 
some  rank;  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to  become  a  bishop;  that  he 
was  loudrin  "bearing  testimony"  in  all  "experience  meetings,"  and  at 
times  held  forth  eloquently  in  the  Tabernacle  on  the  "  evidences."  But 
he  noticed,  too,  that  Briarly  never  called  on  him  when  other  Mor- 
mons were  in  the  store,  and  that  his  effusive  utterances  were  always 
in  a  corner,  and  when  no  third  party  was  near. 

He  pondered  the  matter  until  it  became  really  tormenting,  and 
then  had  recourse  to  his  friend  Hank  Beatty,  who  had  returned  from 
Montana  with  a  good-sized  belt  full  of  "  dust,"  and  now  lingered  in 
Zion.  Beatty  heard  the  account  through  carefully,  cocked  his  head 
on  one  side,  closed  one  eye  in  profound  meditation  for  a  moment,  then 
everted  his  leathery  lips,  and,  with  a  regular  Missouri  "thlurp," 
ejected  a  gill  or  so  of  ambeer  into  the  water-seek.  After  it,  flavored 
with  nicotine,  came  this  oracular  response : 

"  Keep  your  eye  peeled — somethin's  up.      This  is  a  queer  country." 

Manson  was  painfully  aware  of  the  truth  conveyed  in  the  last  sen- 
tence ;  but  now  the  thought  suddenly  occurred  to  him,  "  What  had 
come  over  Beatty  lately?"  The  latter  lingered  unaccountably.  He 
had  said  that  he  left  home,  in  New  York,  in  1860,  and  wrent  by  sea  to 
California ;  he  had,  in  1862,  and  again  in  1865,  been  in  a  fever  to  get 
home,  and  it  ran  into  Manson's  mind  that  Beatty  had  once  told  him. 
something  about  having  a  family,  but  he  was  not  positive  about  this. 
And  now  the  man  seemed  to  have  abandoned  all  idea  of  going  home. 
He  was  enthusiastic  in  his  praises  of  Utah  and  the  Mormons ;  he 
23 


354 


WESTERN   WILDS, 


pointed  often  to  the  hills,  and  said,  in  his  oracular  way  :  "  Money 
there,  my  boy  ;  don't  you  run  away  from  it."  To  add  to  Manson's 
perplexities,  his  dearer  friend,  Thomas  James,  had  suddenly  departexl 
for  the  northern  settlements,  and  had  never  sent  him  word  or  line. 
What  a  horribly  selfish  passion  is  love !  It  makes  one  forget  all  the 
world  but  two  persons — self  and  the  other  self. 

Manson  was  almost  ready  to  conclude  that  human  nature  itself  had 
changed  in  this  anomalous  country.  Here  were  lakes  of  pure  brine 
with  no  outlet  to  the  sea;  all  the  streams  ran  towards  the  center  and 
none  towards  the  ocean;  a  river  was  larger  at  the  head  than  at  the 
mouth ;  it  had  two  ends  and  was  biggest  in  the  middle ;  most  of  the 
streams  came  to  an  end  without  joining  other  streams,  and  though  the 
lakes  were  forever  fed,  they  were  never  full.  Why  should  not  man's 
nature  be  inverted  in  such  a  country  ?  Where  there  was  no  consist- 
ency in  nature  it  was  unreasonable  to  look  for  it  in  man.  So  he  de- 
cided to  take  chances  and  visit  the  Briarlys. 

There  was  a  change  indeed.  He  saw  but  one  "wife,"  and  heard  no 
allusion  whatever  to  Marian.  The  elder  explained  in  an  a\vkward 
way  that  his  "wife  Matilda  was  on  the  ranche  down  on  the  Virgen" — 
that  was  all.  Manson  was  strangely  distrait  and  nervous;  and  was 
not  at  all  helped  by  observing  every  time  he  looked  up,  that  his  host's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  with  a  strange,  inquiring  look  he  could  not 
comprehend.  But  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner — it  wa's  on  Sunday — a 
man  appeared  at  the  gate,  and  the  elder  broke  forth  at  once,  without 
warning  or  prefatory  remark,  into  a  wordy  defense  of  polygamy.  As 
no  previous  reference  had  been  made  to  this  subject,  Manson  could 
scarcely  conceal  his  astonishment.  But  his  habits  of  thought  were 
very  different  from  what  they  had  been  four  years  before,  and  he  was 
prepared  for  argument,  as  are  nearly  all  Gentiles  who  reside  long  in 
Utah.  The  new-comer  entered,  and  made  the  usual  salutations  just 
as  Briarly  was  saying : 

"  Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was  accounted  unto  him  for  right- 
eousness. He  was  called  the  friend  of  God — the  father  of  God's 
chosen  people.  He  had  no  child  till  he  took  Hagar  to  wife,  then  God 
blessed  him  with  a  son  by  Sarah  also,  showing  that  God  approbated 
his  polygamy." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  new-comer,  whom  Manson  soon  suspected  to  be  one 
of  the  ward  teachers ;  "  you  pretend  to  revere  Abraham — you  might 
profitably  follow  his  example." 

"Which  example?"  said  Manson,  "when  he  married  his  sister,  or 
when  he  lied  about  it?  You  know  he  did  both." 


THROUGH  GREAT   TRIBULATION.  355 

"Do  you  revile  the  patriarchs?"  said  the  teacher,  with  rising  color. 

"  I  only  say  of  the  patriarchs  what  the  Bible  says  of  them,  that 
they  did  many  bad  things,  things  which  would  now  be  considered 
crimes." 

"But  God's  word  specifies  all  the  sins  and  crimes.  You  can  not 
show  a  text  forbidding  polygamy." 

"Perhaps  not  in  express  words,  but  I  can  show  that  the  general 
teaching  is  against  it.  You  can  not  show  a  text  expressly  forbidding 
gambling  or  slavery;  but  we  know  they  are  not  justified." 

"  But  was  not  Hagar  given  Abraham  of  God  ?  " 

"  No.  The  record  shows  that  God  had  nothing  to  do  with  Abra- 
ham's polygamy.  It  resulted  from  Sarah's  want  of  faith.  She  had 
been  promised  a  son,  and  as  the  boy  did  not  come  along  soon  enough, 
she  thought  she  would  help  the  Lord  to  keep  His  promise,  and  so  she 
give  her  husband  to  Hagar  with  the  express  understanding  that  the 
child  should  be  Sarah's.  According  to  my  notion,  the  Lord  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  it." 

"But  Abraham  did  practice  plurality,  and  the  Lord  did  not  con- 
demn him  for  it — you  can't  get  around  that." 

"Yes,  Abraham's  first  wife  was  his  half-sister,  and  his  second 
was  a  colored  woman,  and  you  can't  show  a  line  in  the  Bible  to  prove 
that  she  was  married  to  him.  The  Lord  always  speaks  of  her  as  a 
' bond-woman/  and  her  son  as  'the  son  of  the  bond-woman.'  She 
was  n't  Abraham's  wife  at  all." 

"  Sir-r,"  said  the  teacher — and  as  he  warmed  with  the  debate,  his 
Yorkshire  accent  came  out  stronger.  "  You  revile  what  you  do  not 
understand.  '  No  man  knoweth  the  things  of  God,  save  the  Spirit  of 
God  teach  him/  and  you  have  no  witness.  But  we  have  in  us  that 
knowledge  which  enables  us  to  sense  divine  truth.  I  know  this  work 

O 

is  of  God.  I  know  that  plurality  is  the  celestial  law.''  And  to  this 
Briarly  gave  an  emphatic  assent.  He  had  the  spirit;  there  was  a  wit- 
ness the  Gentile  knew  not  of;  lie  must  be  baptized  for  the  remission 
of  sins,  and  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  by  the  laying  on  of  hands  of  one 
that  held  the  true  priesthood.  Then  this  witness  should  be  given' 
him,  and  he  would  know  for  himself,  and  not  for  another,  that  this 
work  was  of  God.  But  among  the  Gentiles  there  was  no  priest  or 
preacher  with  authority  from  God ;  hence  they  could  not  have  this 
witness — and  much  more  to  the  same  effect. 

But  Manson  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  the  main  question.  The 
controversial  spirit  was  aroused  in  him,  and  with  many  interruptions 
he  went  on : 


356 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


"  There  is  not  a  case  of  plural  marriage  reported  in  the  Bible  but 
what  it  led  straight  to  quarreling,  and  sometimes  to  murder.  The 
whole  Bible  only  relates  thirteen  cases  of  polygamy  among  the  right- 
eous race,  while  it  tells  of  hundreds  of  patriarchs,  prophets,  and  kings 
who  either  had  but  one  wife  each,  or  none  at  all.  There  was  Lamech: 

the  first  plu- 
ralist men- 
tioned, w  a  a 
the  second 
murderer 
mentioned. 
Abraham 
'took  up5 
with  the  hired 
girl,  and  she 
had  a  baby; 
his  wife 
abused  her, 
and  he  sent 
her  and  her 
boy  away  to 
die  or  live  in 
the  wilder- 
ness. Isaac, 
the  best  man 
of  the  outfit, 
never  had 
more  than  one 
wife.  Jacob 
was  swindled 
into  plurality 

."  BEHOLD  OUR  LAMANITE  BROTHER."  by  njg  heatlieil 

father-in-law;  then  swindled  his  father-in-law  with  the  trick  of  the 
peeled  rods;  and  after  it  all  his  children  quarreled,  their  mothers 
quarreled,  and  ten  of  the  boys  sold  another  into  slavery. 

"  That  was  a  nice  family  for  us  Americans  to  pattern  after,  was  n't 
it?  Then  there  was  David — married  one  widow  before  her  husband 
had  been  dead  a  week,  and  had  another  man  killed  so  he  could  get 
his  wife ;  and  after  it  all,  his  children  quarreled  like  cats  and  dogs, 
and  one  of  them  rebelled  and  drove  the  old  man  out  of  his  own  house 
for  awhile.  And  Solomon — he  violated  their  law,  which  says  the 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  357 

'king  must  not  multiply  wives  lest  his  heart  turn  away.'*  He  did 
multiply  wives,  and  his  heart  did  turn  away.  Now  look  at  the  other 
fellows.  When  the  Lord  started  m.an  on  earth,  he  created  a  one-wife 
man;  when  he  saved  the  race,  he  saved  a  family  with  one  wife  each, 
and  drowned  all  the  pluralists;  and  when  Christ  came,  his  earthly 
parents  were  one  man  and  his  one  wife.  It  looks  to  me  like  that's  the 
safest  example  to  follow." 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  our  friend  was  allowed  to  give  this  view 
continuously;  that  would  be  a  new  experience  in  Utah.  The  ward 
teacher  had  thrown  in  knotty  texts  at  every  pause,  and  now,  wrought 
up  to  the  "sermon  point,"  he  concluded  with  the  usual  apostolic 
curse — "  Behold  our  Lamanite  brother  !  "  And  to  emphasize  the  matter 
a  Southern  Ute  entered  the  yard,  tricked  out  in  all  the  gaudy  finery 
which  they  affect  when  annuity  goods  are  plenty.  "He  is  the  last  of 
a  mighty  race  that  rejected  the  truth.  Look  at  the  cities  of  the 
plain.  Behold  the  desolation  of  the  East  as  foretold  in  the  prophets. 
The  same  shall  come  upon  your  boasted  Union.  It's  been  split  in 
two  once,  and  patched  up  again  ;  but,  mark  ye,  it's  like  an.  old.  bowl — 
it'll  break  again  in  a  little  while,  and  ye  can't  fix  it..  Then  you'll, 
flee  to  these  mountains  for  safety;  for  the  Lord  '11  come  out  of  his 
hiding-place  and  vex  the  nation  in  his  fury;"  and  so  on  for  an 
hour. 

As  he  concluded  a  light  step  was  heard  at  the  door,  and,  looking  up, 
Manson  saw  a  face  that  had  vaguely  haunted  him  through  all  his 
Montana  wanderings.  He  felt  the  warm  blood  rush  to  his  cheeks; 
and  in  that  instant  he  recognized  the  source  of  his  uncertainties  four 
years  before.  He  now  knew  why  he  had  lost  his  little  girl  friend,  and 
why  he  was  so  strangely  distrait  in  her  presence,  and  she  so  strangely 
perverse,  apparently  unfriendly.  He  understood  it  all.  She  had  been 
in  the  far  South,  in  "Mormon  Dixie,"  and  just  returned.  A  faint 
flush  overspread  her  face  as  Manson  advanced  to  meet  her ;  in  an  in- 
stant it  passed  away,  and  she  accosted  him  with  a  manner  and  words 
that  plainly  showed  she  meant  to  consider  him  merely  as  "  some  one  she 
had  met  before."  But  his  frame  thrilled  as  their  hands  touched.  It 
was  all  over  with  him.  He  was  madly,  violently  in  love.  He 
scarcely  knew  how  he  got  out  of  the  house  and  got  home.  There  was 
a  messenger  waiting — a  returned  miner  from  Montana — who  bore  a 
note,  in  a  well-remembered  hand.  But  it  contained  only  these  words: 

Will :  For   God's  sake,  come  and  see  me. 

TOM  JAMES. 

*  Deuteronomy  xvii:  17. 


358  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Certainly  he  would  go,  only  he  must  make  some  preparations 
first.  But  why  was  Tom  so  urgent?  and  if  so  urgent,  why  had  he 
kept  silent  so  long  ?  The  Montanian  was  gone  before  Manson  had 
thought  to  ask,  and  the  next  minute  he  was  astonished  to  see  Beatty, 
with  a  wagon-load  of  Mormons,  driving  out  the  Toocle  road.  And 
now  it  was  evening,  and  he  must  have  some  time  to  think;  and 
when  it  was  morning,  he  thought  he  must  see  Marian  once  more  before 
he  left,  for  surely  if  Tom  had  been  sick,  or  any  thing  wrong,  he  would 
have  said  so.  Now,  contrary  to  the  usual  rule,  bad  news  does  not 
travel  fast  in  Utah;  and  when  Manson  had  dispatched  a  note  by  the 
slow  mail  of  those  days,  a  week  passed  before  he  could  take  the  first 
step  of  preparation ;  and  at  the  end  of  that  week  came  another  note, 
and,  strange  to  say,  by  another  returning  miner  instead  of  the  mail, 
and  it  merely  said  : 

"  You  need  not  come;  wait  for  me" 

And  it  is  almost  a  shame  to  relate  it,  but  ten  minutes  after  the  note 
was  read,  Manson  had  already  dismissed  it  from  his  mind,  and  was 
pondering  on  his  intended  visit  to  Marian.  Ah  !  love  is  a  terribly 
selfish  passion. 

And  now  the  conduct  of  Elder  Briarly  was  more  a  puzzle  than  ever. 
He  came  again  to  the  store,  but  talked  very  little ;  and  when  Manson, 
after   waiting   on  a  customer,   happened   to   glance    suddenly  at  the 
Elder,  he  saw  the  latter  watching  him  with  an  eager  intensity,  as  if  he 
•would  read  his  very  thoughts.     He  could  not  understand  it,  and  yet 
,he  knew  that  it  made  him  very  uncomfortable.     Worse  still,  it  made 
.'him  half  afraid ;  and  so,  while  he  was  in  a  fever  of  impatience  to  see 
.Marian,  he  still  hung  back  irresolutely  till  another  Sunday  came,  and 
.  went.     He  saw  her  far  across  the  Tabernacle,  and  was  feasting  his 
eyes  on  her  face,  when  her  father  was  suddenly  called  upon  to  "  ad- 
dress  the    brethren."     And   now,   to   Manson's   astonishment,    Elder 
Briarly  rose  and  delivered  a  fierce  philippic  against  all  Gentiles,  from 
that  very  uncompromising  text:  "He  that  is  not  for  us,  is  against  us." 
The   Mormons,   be  it    noted,   have  a  most  unhappy  facility   of  get- 
ting hold  of  all   the   hard,    uncharitable   (I    say  it  with  reverence) 
texts  in  the  Bible ;  and  while  they  preach  a  thousand  sermons  a  year 
«on  this  text,  not  one  of  them  was  ever  known  to  quote  the  rendering 
igiven  by  another  Evangelist:  "He  that  is  not  against  us,  is  on  our 
ipart." 

.Manson  fairly  shuddered  while  the  elder  launched  metaphorical 
'fire  and  brimstone  on  "our  enemies,  who  have  followed  us  to  these 
valleys  of  the  mountains,"  and  denounced  every  lax  saint  who  favored 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  359 

the  ungodly  Babylonians.  Thence  he  branched  off  to  the  history  of 
the  Church,  and  recounted  more  persecutions  than  were  suffered  by  the 
early  Christians.  Racks,  hatchets,  swords  and  dungeons  glimmered 
through  his  sermon  in  mazy  confusion,  and  he  galloped  recklessly 
over  bloody  figures  of  speech  like  an  oratorical  Bashi-Bazouk.  Man- 
son  was  positively  frightened,  and  suffered  two  weeks  more  of  self-tor- 
menting fancies  before  he  dared  venture  to  see  Marian.  It  was  now 
late  autumn,  and  the  evening  was  cold,  but  his  head  felt  hot  enough 
as  he  turned  the  familiar  corner  in  the  sixth  ward.  To  his  amaze- 
ment, as  he  met  the  father  coming  out,  the  latter  bowed  low,  spoke 
most  graciously,  then  glanced  around  and  hurried  away  as  if  he  had 
been  stealing  a  sheep !  What  was  the  matter,  thought  Manson,  that 
people  in  these  peaceful  valleys  should  be  so  afraid  of  each  other? 
Surely  this  was  the  quietest  city  on  the  continent.  Every  traveler 

said  so,  and  yet . 

There  was  Marian,  alone  in  the  large  orchard  and  garden  combined, 
which  surrounds  these  Mormon  dwellings.  She  smiled  faintly,  ex- 
tended her  hand,  and  said  something  about  "neglecting  old  friends." 
The  hot  blood  rushed  over  him.  His  native  "Hoosier"  impulsive- 
ness had  the  mastery.  He  never  could  have  told  you  how  he  did  it — 
how  then  can  I?  But  he  had  her  hand.  He  was  kissing  it.  He  was 
pouring  out  passionate  words.  Now  he  had  her  in  his  arms.  He 
said  every  thing — and  nothing.  He  left  every  sentence  unfinished. 
His  speech  could  not  have  been  reported  by  a  lightning  phonogra- 
pher.  There  were  no  connected  words  in  it,  indeed.  But  it  had  the 
essential  element  of  strength.  And  at  the  end  of  it,  they  were  far 
back  in  a  thicket;  his  hat  was  upon  the  ground,  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  needed  a  dozen  arms  and  hands.  And 
yet  the  innocent  fellow  did  not  know  if  his  prayer  had  been  granted. 
Time  was  needed  to  make  it  clear  to  his  mind.  But  after  the  storm 
came  a  great  calm  of  enjoyment.  The  cold  night  was  unheeded  by 
the  happy  lovers,  till  the  step  of  her  father  returning  from  the  "expe- 
rience meeting"  aroused  them  to  the  painful  fact  that  they  were  still 
in  a  world  of  difficulties,  and  that  much  lay  between  them  and  the 
fruition  of  their  hopes.  But  Manson  went  home  as  if  he  trod  on  air. 
He  was  too  happy  to  sleep.  The  first  revulsion  came  when,  at  the 
usual  hour  next  day,  he  saw  Elder  Briarly  enter.  But  now  the  pecul- 
iarities of  the  elder  seemed  tenfold  increased.  He  talked  in  a  loud 
and  aggressive  tone  with  the  few  Mormon  customers.  AVhen  they  had 
gone,  he  seemed  to  fall  into  a  reverie.  Manson  felt  instinctively  that 
the  elder  had  learned  all  from  his  daughter,  and  his  heart  beat  with 


360  WESTERN  WILDS. 

fearful  violence  whenever  the  latter  approached  him ;  but  every  time 
the  elder  would  again  turn  away  in  silence.  The  suspense  became 
unbearable.  At  length  there  came  a  lull  in  the  morning  business. 
Briarly  went  to  the  door  as  if  to  leave.  He  passed  into  the  street, 
and  looked  both  ways,  then  suddenly  reentered,  and  came  hurriedly  to 
the  rear  end,  where  Manson  stood.  The  latter  leaned  forward,  un- 
certain whether  he  was  to  be  denounced  or  pleasantly  entreated,  and 
was  about  to  speak,  when  the  elder  hurriedly  inclined  his  mouth  to 
the  Gentile's  ear,  and  hissed  rather  than  whispered: 

"  In  God's  name,  is  there  any  way  we  can  get  out  of  this  infernal 
country  ? " 

The  light  step  of  a  Mormon  woman  was  heard  at  the  door.  The 
elder  turned  with  a  cheery  greeting  and  loud  laugh ;  then  passed  at 

once  into  the  street,  leaving  Manson  almost  petrified  with  amazement. 
*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

It  was  midwinter,  and  there  was  another  Gentile  panic.  The 
"  outsiders"  had  thought  their  troubles  over;  that  law  was  to  reign  in 
Utah.  But  in  the  spring,  S.  N.  Brassfield  was  shot  dead  while  walk- 
ing the  streets  in  the  custody  of  an  officer.  In  October,  Dr.  Robin- 
son was  brutally  assassinated.  Non-Mormon  settlers  on  the  public 
lands  were  mobbed,  shot,  thrown  in  the  Jordan,  and  driven  away. 
Willie  Manson  thought  he  had  troubles  enough,  when  one  day  a  pale, 
spiritless  looking  man  entered  the  store,  and  said  he  was  Thomas 
James !  Oh,  no !  It  could  not  be,  thought  Manson.  Not  the  bold 
horseman  who  had  cut  his  way  through  ranks  of  brave  Bannocks ! 
Not  the  stout  young  Briton  who  had  done  and  dared  so  much  in 
Montana !  Yet  it  was.  But  not  the  same.  Never  to  be  the  same 
again.  For  now  Manson  listened  to  a  narrative  that  chilled  his 
blood  with  horror.  Thomas  James  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the 
priesthood  the  last  terrible  indignity  that  man  can  suffer — compared 
with  which  murder  is  a  light  offense.  A  creature  walked  abroad, 
called  by  the  same  name;  but  Thomas  James,  the  yeoman,  would  never 
again  dare  death  in  Indian  combat,  or  rival  a  bishop  in  love.  Where 
could  he  go,  and  what  could  he  do?  asked  his  pitying  friend.  He 
was  not  alone.  Utah  in  that  sad  time  contained  more  than  one  who 
had  suffered  like  him — men,  so-called,  shrinking  along  the  streets, 
ashamed  to  meet  their  kind.  For,  let  this  misfortune  come  how  it 
may,  on  innocent  or  guilty,  while  reason  protests  that  we  ought  not 
to  despise  such  a  one,  the  subtle  instinct  of  manhood  commands  that 
we  shall. 

Thomas  James  went  south  with  a  party  going  to  San  Bernardino ; 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  361 

and  in  due  time  the  report  reached  Salt  Lake  City  that  he  had  died 
there,  insane.  Bishop  Warren  extended  his  possessions,  and  was  a 
father  unto  his  people.  There  was  peace  and  order  in  his  bishoprick ; 
the  apostle  in  charge  of  Cache  Valley  recommended  this  good  stew- 
ard for  reward;  and  strangely  enough,  when  Brigham  asked  his  will, 
the  bishop  only  wanted  another  wife,  as  he  had  but  four,  and  his 
kingdom  was  not  increasing  as  fast  as  he  could  wish.  To  Christina 
Jahnsen,  sorrowful  and  lonely,  came  the  good  sisters  with  a  world  of 
good  advice.  Innuendoes,  hints  at  what  had  been  said  and  heard, 
insinuations  that  her  lover  had  boasted  of  his  conquest,  parts  of  let- 
ters said  to  have  been  written — all  these  skillfully  woven  into  an  im- 
posing lie — soon  did  their  work.  Believing  herself  doubly  betrayed, 
a  sinner  against  God  and  a  traitor  to  the  Church,  she  submitted  to 
whatever  was  required;  and  before  the  winter  was  past  the  Endow- 
ment House  witnessed  the  sacrifice  of  another  victim,  and  the  fatherly 
bishop  went  home  with  his  young  wife.  The  laws  of  Zion  had  been 
vindicated.  Virtue,  according  to  the  Mormon  idea,  had  been  pro- 
tected; the  daughters  of  Zion  were  warned,  and  the  careful  bishop 
had  his  reward. 

But  the  married  woman  soon  learns  what  the  ignorant  girl  could 
not  even  have  suspected.  She  learned  too  soon  that  she  had  been 
cruelly  deceived.  That  calm  nature  was  aroused,  and  the  lovely  woman 
had  a  devil  in  her  heart.  Then  began  the  battle.  It  was  a  weak 
woman  against  a  whole  community ;  an  individual  against  a  system. 
Fierce  as  a  fury  she  flew  upon  her  "  husband,"  and  cursed  him  with 
frantic  vehemence.  She  raved  and  prayed  by  turns;  she  could  not 
-yet  cast  off  her  faith  in  Mormonism,  but  she  hated  it  because  it  was 
true.  Then  came  the  "counsel"  of  ward  teachers;  the  direction  to 
humble  herself,  to  make  her  peace  with  the  man  who  was  her  "  head 
in  Christ."  But  she  raved  on.  It  was  now  insanity.  Then  was 
pronounced  the  common  verdict  in  such  cases  :  "  Possessed  of  a  devil." 
The  elders  came  with  the  holy  oil  and  laying  on  of  hands.  But  the 
"possession  "  would  not  be  charmed  away.  Then  she  was  bound  down 
"till  such  time  as  the  devil  should  cease  to  afflict  her." 

About  her  came  all  the  canting  sisterhood,  the  malignant,  the 
stupid,  the  fanatical,  to  preach  "  submission  to  the  will  of  God."  "  It 
is  the  duty  of  us  all,  Sister.  Brother  Warren  is  an  upright  man, 
a  faithful  Saint;  he  will  give  you  a  great  exaltation  in  the  eternities. 
With  a  Gentile  you  would  be  a  servant,  world  without  end. 
Just  think,  dear  Sister,  how  dreadful  to  be  a  hewer  of  wood  and 
drawer  of  water  through  all  eternity  for  other  women,  when  you 


362  WESTERN  WILDS. 

might  have  been  a  queen  in  the  celestial  heavens."  Still  she  raved,  and 
railed  on  the  Church  and  all  the  priesthood.  Again  was  she  bound ; 
again  the  holy  oil  and  laying  on  of  hands.  Then  "  the  devil  left  her." 
A  strange  calm  followed.  The  faithful  rejoiced  over  a  sister  restored. 
She  went  about  her  duties  in  silence  and  submission.  But  there  was 
that  in  her  eye  which  the  dull  brethren  about  her  did  not  note ;  there 
was  a  far  away  look,  that  showed  a  mind  set  on  something  the  eye 
could  not  see.  An  inward  fever  scorched  her  blood,  and  dried  up  the 
sources  of  her  beauty.  Her  child  was  born  and  died,  but  she  heeded 
it  not.  Two  years  passed,  and  the  bishop's  "  favorite  and  No.  5  "  began 
already  to  be  known  as  the  bishop's  "  old  woman."  Another  year, 
and  she  was  away  from  Logan ;  now  on  the  bishop's  ranche,  in  Bear 
River  Valley.  The  bishop  now  had  another  "  favorite,"  a  No.  6 ;  and 
few  who  noticed  No.  5  at  her  wearing  tasks,  "taking  care  of  things 
at  the  ranche,"  ever  stopped  to  think  how  fast  the  bishop's  late  favor- 
ite had  become  an  "  old  woman,"  or  to  wonder  that  that  head,  fast 
turning  gray,  and  that  wrinkled  face,  could  belong  to  a  woman  over 
whose  head  but  twenty-five  years  had  passed.  At  length  there  came 
a  night  when  the  storm  was  abroad  upon  the  desert.  The  fierce  wind 
howled  along  the  Humboldt  Range,  gathered  the  red  sand  in  ghastly 
pillars  that  rolled  over  Promontory  Range,  and  swept  with  blinding 
force  upon  the  eastern  valley.  People  said :  ''  It  is  one  of  our  worst 
dust  storms — it  Avill  purify  the  air,"  and  thought  of  the  season,  the 
crops  and  their  several  material  gains.  But  the  dust  storm  grew  to  a 
tornado;  and  when  it  passed,  the  crazy  log-hut  on  the  bishop's  ranche 
was  in  ruins.  A  calm  and  glorious  morning  followed  the  storm;  the 
Utah  valleys  never  looked  more  peaceful  than  then.  But  in  that 
storm  a  greater  storm  had  been  stilled.  Beneath  the  pitying  stars 
that  shone  through  the  flying  clouds  that  night,  a  soul  had  found 
release ;  another  subject  had  deserted  from  Brigham's  kingdom,  and 
the  sad  Danish  girl  was  young  again  in  the  heaven  of  her  beloved. 

^fCSjC^jC^Jji^fC^'ti^t* 

The  mystery  of  his  intended  father-in-law  was  no  longer  a  mystery 
to  Willie  Manson.  The  elder  had  long  been  apostate  in  heart,  and 
secretly  mourned  his  inability  to  escape  from  his  bondage.  But  how 
could  he  break  the  ties  which  bound  him  in  Utah?  He  now  had 
three  wives,  but  every  day  he  secretly  thanked  God  that  the  last  one 
was  childless.  Ten  years  he  had  lived  in  polygamy,  and  Marian 
had  nine  half-brothers  and  sisters.  Could  he  leave  these  innocent 
ones  in  this  country?  And  could  he  hope  to  get  them  safely  away? 
Could  he  trust  his  own  wives,  whom  the  ward  teachers,  in  accordance 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  363 

with  the  "  secret  ritual,"  examined  separately  every  week  ?  Could  he 
trust  his  dearest  friend?  Was  there  any  one  or  any  thing  in  this  land 
of  intrigue  and  priestly  supervision,  who  would  be  true?  How 
often  did  he  gaze  upon  the  snowy  summits  of  the  Wasatch,  and  curse 
the  hour  when  he  made  himself  a  virtual  prisoner  in  these  valleys ! 
It  was  easy  to  say  that  the  laws  of  the  country  protected  him  in 
going  where  he  pleased.  But  there  was  another  law  here  more  pow- 
erful than  any  written  law.  His  property  was  "consecrated"  by 
deeds  which  he  once  thought  a  mere  form,  but  now  knew  to  be 
valid.  The  church  owned  it  all,  if  the  trustee-in-trust  but  chose  to 
exercise  his  power.  In  his  days  of  fanaticism  he  had  bound  himself 
by  the  "  Perfect  Oneness  in  Christ,"  and  now  all  he  had  was  security 
for  all  the  other  members  of  his  "quorum."  Though  he  had  paid 
his  own  passage  and  that  of  Marian  from  Liverpool  to  Salt  Lake, 
yet  he  had,  as  requested  by  the  bishop  in  charge,  indorsed  the  notes 
for  passage  money  of  a  dozen  of  his  poorer  brethren ;  and  he  knew 
too  well  that  all  these  notes  were  ready  to  be  presented  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  And  the  good  bishops  and  apostles  who  constitute 
the  Utah  Legislature  had  taken  excellent  care  on  this  point.  For  a 
resident  there  was  no  end  of  exemptions ;  it  was  scarcely  possible  to 
collect  a  debt  by  law.  But  for  "one  intending  to  leave  the  Terri- 
tory"— it  was  expressly  enacted  that  there  was  no  exemption.  And 
if  one  should  try  to  leave  before  every  debt  was  paid,  there  was  the 
law  against  "absconding  debtors" — they  could  be  imprisoned  "at 
the  discretion  of  the  court."  And  such  a  court!  The  probate 
judge  of  each  county  was  the  presiding  bishop  thereof — the  sworn 
servant  of  Brigham  Young.  Verily,  the  "  cut-throat  laws  of 
Utah "  were  made  by  men  who  have  had  experience  in  ecclesi- 
astical tyranny. 

For  three  years  Elder  Briarly  had  lived  a  stupendous  lie.  Know- 
ing himself  to  be  an  apostate,  suspecting  himself  to  be  the  object  of 
suspicion,  he  thought,  as  thousands  have  thought,  to  make  his  posi- 
tion more  secure  by  a  show  of  zeal.  And  then  his  wives — what  was 
he  to  do  with  them?  He  was  but  a  man,  and  in  his  secret  soul  he 
confessed  that  he  loved  the  one,  was  indiiferent  to  the  second,  and 
"positively  detested  the  third.  What  if  the  detested  one  should  pen- 
etrate his  designs  ?  He  groaned  in  spirit  at  the  thought.  There  was 
nothing  for  him  but  determined  reticence ;  and  so  his  home  life  was 
a  continuing  lie — a  lie  so  complex,  so  gigantic,  that  it  corrupted 
every  element  of  his  nature,  and  changed  him  from  a  man  and 
a  Briton  to  a  self-despised  thing.  And  so  it  must  be  with  .every 


364  WESTERN  WILDS. 

man  in  polygamy,  unless,  like  the  Oriental,  he  regard  his  women 
as  playthings  or  slaves,  and  look  with  lordly  indifference  upon 
them  all. 

But  there  came  a  time  when  he  must  choose.  He  could  no  longer 
stand  behind  the  door  and  grit  his  teeth  when  the  troubles  of  polyg- 
amy pressed  upon  him.  Brigham  was  now  inaugurating  schemes 
which  would  make  every  submissive  Mormon  a  slave.  He  must  es- 
cape with  whatever  he  could  take,  or  whoever  would  go  with  him, 
and  trust  the  others  to  follow.  Very  secretly  he  made  a  few  prepa- 
rations, Manson  assisting  as  far  as  was  safe.  Assuredly  there  was 
need  of  caution.  The  Gentiles  were  in  a  condition  of  panic.  The 
few  soldiers  at  Camp  Douglas  were  of  no  avail  in  the  city.  In  one 
instance  a  guard  had  been  sent  to  see  that  Miss  Sarah  Carmichael, 
the  poetess,  reached  the  stage  coach  in  safety;  but  this  was  an  ex- 
periment not  to  be  repeated.  The  President  of  the  United  States 
was  jiow  devoting  his  mighty  energies  to  thwarting  the  Republican 
party ;  and  in  Utah  every  Federal  official  suspected  of  "  radicalism " 
was  removed,  and  a  Mormon  put  in  his  place.  Burton,  the  murderer 
of  the  Morrisites,  held  the  best  office  in  the  Territory.  One  Federal 
judge  was  a  Mormon  elder.  The  Governor  was  expressly  instructed 
"not  to  irritate  the  Mormons."  Other  officials  were  the  subservient 
tools  of  Brigham  Young.  Among  the  army  officers  alone  could  the 
harassed  Gentiles  and  apostates  hope  to  find  friends.  At  length  the 
general  commanding  the  department  announced  that  an  expedition 
would  start  for  the  Missouri  River  on  a  certain  day.  and  whoever 
would  might  "travel  under  their  protection  through  the  Indian  coun- 
try." The  priesthood  laughed  at  this  wording,  and  sneered  at  the 
Gentile  officer  for  thus  insinuating  that  any  one  wanted  to  leave 
Utah.  The  night  before  the  day  set,  there  was  not  a  sign  of  prepa- 
ration in  the  city.  Daylight  next  morning  showed  a  caravan  of  two 
hundred  people  camped  about  the  garrison  :  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, miserably  equipped  indeed,  but  eager  for  the  journey.  Among 
them  were  Manson  and  the  Briarlys.  They  had  got  away  with  little 
indeed, — whatever  the  elder  could  convert  into  ready  money,  besides 
his  one  team  and  wagon.  The  rest  of  his  property  would  go  ac- 
cording to  the  apostolic  law  of  "laying  on  of  hands."  But  he 
had  all  his  children,  and  two  "wives."  For  the  one  some  provision 
must  be  made  in  the  States.  For  the  present  it  was  enough  to  get 
away. 

The  snow  yet  lay  deep  in  the  passes,  and  the  winter  wind  still 
howled  over  the  high  plains;  but  Manson  confessed  himself  strangely 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION.  365 

happy  in  the  midst  of  all  the  hardships.  For  now  he  had  a  recog- 
nized right  to  care  for  Marian.  The  miseries  of  the  journey  so 
early  in  the  season  need  not  be  recounted.  The  open  sky,  or  a  rude 
tent,  for  women  and  children  in  March  and  April,  on  the  high  plains, 
would  seem  bad  enough  ;  but  to  Marian  and  her  father  they  were  lux- 
ury itself  compared  with  what  they  remembered  of  their  journey  out. 
They  mourned  their  kinsman,  Thomas  James,  who  had  gone  south  a 
few  days  before  their  departure ;  but  for  themselves  they  rejoiced  over 
every  mile  put  between  them  and  Utah.  The  mountains  were 
passed,  and  early  summer  found  them  on  the  Missouri,  eleven  years 
after  they  had  left  it  as  fanatical  Mormons.  Eleven  years,  from  the 
short  span  of  life,  in  what  had  been  to  Elder  Briarly  a  school  of  deg- 
radation. 

A  new  era  had  set  in.  The  Pacific  Railroad  was  pushing  westward, 
and  paper  cities  were  springing  up  along  its  way.  Leaving  his 
friends  in  Iowa,  Manson  again  turned  his  face  westward,  determined 
to  win  a  fortune  before  he  should  claim  Marian  for  his  own.  Through 
all  the  ups  and  downs  of  that  strange  moving  community,  from 
Cheyenne  to  Promontory,  he  toiled  on,  ever  keeping  in  mind  the 
prize  that  awaited  him,  and  thus  guarded  against  the  temptations 
which  prevailed  over  so  many.  The  autumn  of  1869  found  him 
again  in  Utah,  now  among  the  new  mines  which  were  every-where 
being  opened.  His  old  friend,  Hank  Briarly,  wyas  exploring  the  west 
mountains,  and  urged  Manson  to  join  him.  Before  determining  his 
course,  business  called  him  to  Green  River.  There,  as  he  walked, 
amid  the  ruins  of  that  railroad  "city,"  he  was  astonished  at  being 
accosted  by  a  lady  of  pleasant  aspect,  but  with  a  face  on  which 
trouble  had  left  its  mark.  She  had  visited  in  turn  every  railroad 
town,  and  her  one  inquiry  was,  "Do  you  know  any  man  about  here 
by  the  name  of  Henry  Beatty?" 

Startled  as  Manson  was  by  this  inquiry,  some  instinct  made  him 
cautious  in  his  reply.  Yes,  he  did  know  him,  and  he  believed  Beatty 
was  now  in  Utah.  The  lady  overwhelmed  him  with  thanks,  and  ac- 
companied him  on  the  next  train  to  Ogden.  Her  joy  prevailed  over 
her  reserve.  She  talked  to  Manson  as  an  old  friend.  While  she 
gently  complained  of  the  long  silence  of  her  husband,  she  yet  found 
a  thousand  excuses  for,  him. 

"He  was  so  high  spirited,"  she  said,  "and  not  willing  to  plod 
along  the  common  road.  I  am  English  born,  you  know,  and  had 
property  left  me  in  my  own  name ;  and  it  worried  Mr.  Beatty  that  he 
should  not  add  as  much  more  ;  and  nine  years  ago — dear  me,  how 


366  WESTERN    WILDS. 

long  it  seems — nine  years  ago  he  went  to  California,  and  then  to 
Montana." 

Manson  winced  as  he  remembered  some  things  in  that  experience, 
and  dreaded  something  to  come,  he  knew  not  what ;  but  he  held  his 
peace.  They  had  taken  the  coach  at  Ogden,  and  were  fast  speeding  to- 
wards Salt  Lake,  when  the  lady  resumed  : 

"For  a  long  time  he  wrote  so  regularly ;  then  not  so  often,  and  now 
for  eight  months  I  have  not  heard  a  word.  At  first  I  thought  it  was 
because  he  was  coming  home;  and  then  I  got  afraid  he  might  be 

."      She  shuddered  and  paused.      But  she  was  too  much  pleased 

with  the  information  Manson  had  given  her  to  treat  him  as  a  stranger, 
and  continued  her  reminiscences. 

They  reached  the  city,  and  Mrs.  Beatty  could  scarcely  rest  till  she 
had  learned  that  her  husband  had  gone  to  Tooele,  and  had  secured  a 
seat  in  the  next  coach  for  that  place.  Meanwhile  she  made  a  few  pur- 
chases, and  again  sent  for  Manson  to  make  some  inquiries.  As  she 
mechanically  unrolled  the  articles  she  had  bought,  talking  cheerfully 
to  her  new-found  friend,  her  eye  fell  upon  an  old  copy  of  the  Salt 
Lake  Telegraphy  in  which  they  were  wrapped.  Suddenly  her  cheerful 
tones  ceased.  For  a  minute  she  held  the  paper,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  it,  then  a  loud  scream  rang  through  the  hotel,  and  she  sank  ap- 
parently lifeless  upon  the  parlor  floor. 

There  was  a  commotion  in  the  hotel.  The  landlady  and  chamber- 
maids hurried  to  help  the  strange  lady.  Manson  knew  that  the  evil 
he  dreaded  had  come,  whatever  it  was.  When  the  lady  had  revived  a 
little,  and  been  taken  to  her  room,  he  picked  up  the  Telegraph  and 
read  this : 

LEGAL   NOTICE. 

^ooSLE^Coroj^sS  }       In  the  Probate  Court  °f  Toode  County,  October  Session,  1868. 
HENRY  BEATTY  vs.  SARAH  ANN  BEATTY. 

Action  for  Divorce. 

Defendant  in  the  above  entitled  cause  will  take  notice  that  plaintiff  has  filed  his  com- 
plaint in  this  court,  and  due  publication  been  made  thereof  according  to  law;  that 
plaintiff  seeks  .complete  legal  separation  from  said  defendant,  and  exemption  from  all 
the  liabilities  of  matrimony.  Cause  alleged:  Abandonment  and  refusal  of  said  de- 
fendant to  live  with  him  in  marriage.  Now,  therefore,  defendant  is  notified  that  un- 
less she  appear  at  the  ensuing  term  of  this  court,  to  be  holden  at  the  court-house  in 
Tooele  City,  on  the  first  Monday  in  December,  1868,  and  make  due  answer,  said 
case  will  be  heard  and  determined  in  her  absence. 

JOHN  WOODBURY,  Judge  P.  C.,  Tooele  County. 

WILSON  SNOW,  Clerk  P.  C.,  Tooele  County. 

— [Suit  Lake  Telegraph.     w-5t. 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION. 


367 


Five  weeks  passed,  and  a  pale  shadow  of  the  cheery  English  lady 
was  seated  in  the  Tooele  coach.  She  made  no  complaints,  but  rode 
the  long,  weary  way  in  silence.  Arrived  at  the  Mormon  village,  she 
inquired  her  way,  and  proceeded  to  a  neat  cabin  in  the  outskirts.  In 
answer  to  her  knock,  the  door  was  opened  by  an  apple-faced  but 


"LET  ME  LOOK  TOWARD  OLD  ENGLAND  BEFORE  I  DIE." 

pleasant  looking  young  Mormon  woman,  with  that  flush  complexion 
and  sort  of  florid  beauty  often  seen  among  the  young  Saints. 

"  Does  Henry  Beatty  live  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  will  you  walk  in  ?  " 

"Are  you  his  wife?"  asked  the  strange  lady,  with  rigid  countenance, 
and  paying  no  heed  to  the  polite  invitation. 


368  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"Yes,  ma'am."  (This  with  a  slight  courtesy.)  "I'm  his  wife  Dese- 
reta,  but  he  married  my  sister  Nellie  the  same  day.  Maybe  its  her 
you  want  to  see.  But  she's  with  him  now,  up  at  the  mine." 

"  No,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  only  wanted  to  see  who  it  was  that  had 
caused  Henry  Beatty  to  forget  his  family  and  his  God.  But  if  there's 
two  of  you,  I  know  enough.  Good-day."  And  she  moved  silently 
back  to  the  hotel,  and  took  the  return  coach  for  Zion.  No  one  in- 
quired particularly  about  her;  no  one  asked  any  questions  about  the 
notice  of  divorce  eight  months  before.  The  bishop  was  satisfied  with 
it,  and  the  council  had  directed  that  "  Brother  Beatty  be  fellow- 
shiped,"  and  that  was  enough.  "Mind  your  own  business,"  was  the 
rule  in  Tooele  as  well  as  in  Logan. 

The  late  autumn  found  our  strange  friend  lying  on  a  lounge  in  an 
eastern  city,  "only  waiting  till  she  should  get  strong  enough  to  make 
the  voyage."  She  had  disposed  of  all  her  property  in  this  blessed 
land  of  equal  rights  and  wholesome  laws,  and  was  going  back  to 
monarchical  England,  where  a  man  can  not  marry  two  wives  in  a 
day,  or  a  woman  be  divorced  without  knowing  it.  Her  Yankee 
friends  said  her  head  was  "turned"  by  her  troubles,  or  she  never 
would  have  preferred  despotism  to  liberty.  She  was  but  one  of  ten 
thousand  whom  the  laws  of  Utah — tacitly  approved  by  the  American 
Congress — have  crucified. 

But  she  had  not  gained  strength  as  fast  as  the  doctor  predicted. 
She  had  gazed  out  of  the  open  window  whole  hours  at  the  vessels  in 
the  bay,  but  now  she  seemed  to  lack  energy.  Suddenly  she  spoke : 
"  Let  me  look  toward  Old  England  once  more  before  I  die." 

The  attendant  raised  her  gently.  She  gazed  long  and  lovingly  over 
the  blue  ocean,  then  lay  down  and,  with  one  brief  prayer  for  Henry, 
passed  away. 

"Willie  has  struck  chloride!  Willie  has  struck  chloride!"  shouted 
Marian,  dancing  into  her  mother's  room  with  an  open  letter  in  her 
hand,  greatly  astonishing  that  worthy  woman,  to  whom  this  lan- 
guage was  scarcely  more  intelligible  than  Greek.  She  had  not  read  all 
that  long  series  of  interesting  letters,  running  through  the  year  since 
Willie  Manson  and  his  partner  settled  down  on  Lion  Hill,  to  dig  for 
a  fortune;  and,  in  her  ignorance,  was  about  to  ask  who  "chloride" 
was,  and  if  he  would  strike  back,  when  Marian  continued : 

"Willie  has  struck  chloride!  He  can  sell  out  for  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  and  he's  coming  home  right  away,  and — and —  "  She  con- 
siderately paused. 


THROUGH  GREAT  TRIBULATION. 


369 


. 


Marian  had  but  one  "  mother  "  now.  In  the  old  Utah  days  she  had 
addressed  her  father's  wives  as  "  Auntie,"  according  to  the  safe  cus- 
tom in  vogue  then ;  but  since  the  other  "  Auntie  "  had  found  a  home 
somewhere  else,  and  her  father's  house  had  but  one  mistress,  she  had 
promoted  her  to  be  addressed  as  "  Mother." 

Yes,  Manson  had  "struck  chloride,"  and  though  the  vein  was  not 
so  rich  by  some  millions 
of  dollars  as  the  sanguine 
partners  had  expected, 
they  sold  it  for  enough  to 
satisfy  Manson;  and  be- 
fore the  autumn  of  1870 
had  passed,  he  once  more 
held  Marian  in  his  arms. 
And  now  I,  the  writer 
hereof,  am  embarrassed; 
for,  if  I  continue  the 
story,  I  can  not  dwell  on 
miners,  Mormons  and 
Indians,  mountains,  mines 
and  adventures.  The  de- 
tails of  a  marriage  are 
beyond  my  scope.  Suffice 
it,  then,  to  say,  that  Willie 
Manson  and  Marian  Bri- 
arly  were  made  one,  after 
all  their  troubles,  and  con- 
tentedly settled  down  in 
Iowa,  determined  there 
to  spend  the  remainder  of 
their  days. 

And  that  firm  resolution  they  kept  just  six  months. 

For,  when  the  south  wind  blew  softly,  in  May,  1871,  they  looked 
around  them  and  missed  something.  They  did  not  see  the  circling 
peaks,  their  summits  ever  glistening  with  snow ;  nor  the  blue  waves 
of  the  Salt  Lake,  nor  the  crystal  streams  pouring  from  the  hills ;  and, 
as  they  looked  into  each  other's  faces,  Marian  expressed  the  desire  of 
both,  saying :  "  What  a  glorious  place  Salt  Lake  will  be  when  things 
get  fixed." 

Once  confessed,  her  longing  increased.     She  was  desperately  home- 
sick.     The  troubles  were  forgotten,  the  joys  remembered;    distance 
24 


"WILMK    HAS  STRUCK  CHLORIDE." 


370  WESTERN   WILDS. 

blended  her  life  in  Utah  into  one  pleasing  whole.  What  was  there  in 
this  prairie  State  to  take  the  place  of  her  beloved  mountains?  Where 
was  the  rocky  cafion,  with  ever-varying  beauty  of  gorge,  crag,  and 
wooded  slope?  where  the  gray  and  blue  peaks  standing  out  sharply 
against  the  rosy  evening  sky  ?  where  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  now  spread 
out  like  a  molten  mirror  in  the  summer  calm,  now  sparkling  in  the 
light  breeze,  now  tossing  its  white  caps  in  the  storm?  There  was  a 
calm  beauty  in  the  rolling  prairie ;  but  where  was  the  wild  charm  of 
the  Utah  valley?  The  calm  rivers  had  their  pleasant  features — for 
Iowa  people — but  what  could  take  the  place  of  crystal  streams  dashing 
down  rocky  cafions,  of  bright  water-seeks  gurgling  by  the  road-side, 
of  the  sacred  Jordan  and  its  mountain  affluents?  There  was  no  charm 
in  this  land  for  the  eye  of  a  mountaineer;  and  soon  Manson  also  con- 
fessed that,  for  good  or  ill,  he  must  some  day  live  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Wasatch. 

After  that  their  progress  was  rapid.  They  could  not  live  away 
from  the  mountains.  And,  as  I  sat  in  front  of  their  tasteful  cottage, 
overlooking  the  city  from  the  first  "  bench,"  and  heard  their  story,  I 
did  not  wonder  at  their  conclusion ;  for  surely  there  are  few  places  in 
this  world  which  so  charm  the  resident  as  Salt  Lake  City.  Drink  of 
its  waters,  walk  its  streets  for  one  year,  and  you  will  ever  long  to 
return.  Give  but  good  government,  and  intelligent  society,  and  Utah 
would  be  to  me  even  as  the  home  of  the  soul — Salt  Lake  City,  the 
particular  spot  at  which  I  would  pitch  my  tent  forever. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 
SWINGING  'ROUND  THE  CIRCLE. 

ZION  was  hot  in  a  double  sense  when  I  reached  it  in  July,  1872. 
The  season  was  unusually  warm ;  the  Saints  and  Gentiles  were  con- 
ducting a  bitter  politico-religious  campaign,  and  the  nation  was  dis- 
tracted by  the  spectacle  of  Horace  Greeley  running  for  President  on 
the  Democratic  ticket.  The  Mormons  all  swore  by  Greeley,  and 
prophecies  of  his  election  were  abundant.  He  had  visited  them  in 
his  overland  journey  of  1858,  and  out  of  his  letters  they  had  man- 
aged to  pick  many  comforting  passages ;  while  the  "  squatter  sov- 
ereignty "  doctrine  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  had  suited  their  position  so 
admirably,  that  they  inevitably  became  zealous  Democrats.  The  con- 
test was  not  pleasant  to  a  traveler,  and,  after  a  ten  days'  visit,  I  jour- 
neyed on  to  Soda  Springs,  then  ambitiously  styled  "  The  future  Sara- 
toga of  the  West." 

Leaving  Corinne,  Sunday,  August  4th,  on  a  narrow-guage  mule,  I 
spent  the  first  night  with  a  Mormon  rancher  in  Cache  Valley.  This 
beautiful  region  was  long  the  winter  rendezvous  of  the  North-west 
Fur  Company,  and  many  are  the  legends  of  grand  councils  here  with 
Shoshone,  Bannock  and  Uintah;  of  love-making  between  swarthy 
trappers  and  dusky  maidens;  of  grand  revels,  often  ending  in  a  free 
fight,  in  which  ordinary  hostile  divisions  were  ignored,  and  every  man 
went  in  for  personal  revenge.  Now  it  is  the  abode  of  15,000  Mor- 
mons, and  the  granary  of  Utah.  The  valley,  or  rather  basin,  is  in- 
closed on  all  sides  by  lofty  mountains,  their  summits  tipped  with  snow 
in  mid-summer.  Through  it  Bear  River  runs  in  many  a  winding  maze 
for  seventy  miles,  and  from  all  sides  bright  crystal  affluents  join  the 
main  stream,  each  singing  of  the  snowy  heights  whence  it  came.  The 
traveler  along  one  side  of  the  valley  sees  all  the  Mormon  villages  on 
the  other  side,  each  set  back  in  a  little  cove,  but  those  near  him  are 
hidden  by  the  projecting  mountain  spurs. 

From  the  upper  part  of  Cache  ("  concealed  ")  Valley,  the  road  rises 
to  a  rocky  plateau.  There  the  Bear  River  makes  a  big  bend  to  the 
north,  and  the  mountains,  which  have  followed  close  on  its  eastern 
bank  for  a  hundred  miles,  give  back,  and  we  find  here  a  broad,  green 

(371)    *• 


372 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


valley  some  ten  miles  wide.  The  floor,  so  to  speak,  of  this  valley  is 
iron;  upon  it  is  a  heavy  stratum  of  rich  earth,  and  through  it,  in  a 
hundred  places,  the  subterraneous  waters  and  gases  have  forced  their 
way.  The  plain  is  dotted  by  soda  mounds  from  five  to  thirty  feet  in 
height,  and  every-where  upon  and  among  them  are  the  soda-fountains. 
Some  boil  furiously  with  a  loud,  bubbling  noise  and  escape  of  gas ; 


SHOSHONEES  WITH  ANNUITY  GOODS. 


others  show  but  a  faint  effervescence ;  some  are  always  calm,  and 
never  overflow,  while  others  send  out  large  and  constant  streams,  and 
still  others  sink  a  foot  or  two  when  the  air  is  cool,  and  rise  to  an 
overflow  when  it  is  warm.  The  springs  on  the  soda  mounds,  are 
mere  tanks,  but  a  few  inches  wide,  sending  out  such  faint  streams  that 
all  the  solid  contents  are  precipitated,  and  the  water  quite  evaporated 
before  reaching  the  plain. 

Some  of  the  mounds  have  risen  so  high  that  the  water  has  broken 
out  elsewhere,  and  thus  new  mounds  are  being  slowly  built.  In  some 
springs  the  chemical  mixture  is  pure  soda,  in  others  pure  iron,  in  still 


SWINGING  'ROUND   THE  CIRCLE.  373 

others  iron,  soda  and  salt  mixed.  The  best  tonic  is  from  the  Octa- 
gon Spring,  containing  about  equal  parts  of  iron  and  soda,  with  slight 
admixture  of  other  elements.  Invalids  insist  that  the  first  drink  does 
them  good,  and  that  they  improve  every  day  they  use  it.  On  me  its 
chief  effect  was  to  create  a  marvelous  appetite.  The  Ninety-per- 
cent Spring,  which  Gentiles  also  call  the  Anti-polygamy  Spring,  is 
most  heavily  charged  of  all.  Of  the  solid  contents,  ninety  per  cent,  is 
pure  soda ;  the  rest  some  mineral  or  salt  which  has  strange  effects  on 
the  male  human.  A  few  quarts  of  it  will  destroy  the  strongest  fuith 
in  the  necessity  for  polygamy.  This  lasts  but  a  few  days,  however. 

Hooper's  Spring  is  the  largest  and  perhaps  the  greatest  curiosity. 
It  is  a  rod  wide,  and  presents  the  appearance  of  an  immense^  caldron 
boiling  furiously;  but  the  water  is  very  cool,  and  rather  pleasant  to 
the  taste.  The  vale  near  by  is  covered  with  heavy  grass,  which  lines 
the  spring  and  hangs  into  the  water;  on  all  sides  rise  the  majestic 
mountains,  and  from  the  pool  a  stream  six  feet  wide  and  a  foot  deep 
flows  into  Soda  Creek.  The  water  contains  nothing  but  soda,  and  all 
of  that  it  will  hold  in  solution.  Mixed  with  sugar  of  lemons  it 
makes  a  drink  equal  to  the  best  from  a  patent  fountain. 

Near  by,  "Wm.  H.  Hooper,  late  Mormon  delegate  in  Congress,  has 
a  summer  residence.  The  elevation  of  the  valley  is  some  6,500  feet 
above  sea-level,  and  the  climate  in  August  about  like  that  of  October 
in  the  States.  Farther  up  the  vale  may  be  seen  the  Formation 
Springs,  where  the  dripping  chemicals  have  molded  a  thousand  fan- 
ciful shapes ;  and  down  near  the  river  is  Steamboat  Spring,  from 
which  the  water  bursts  forth  at  brief  intervals  with  a  loud  "  cough," 
like  the  "  scape  "  of  a  slowly  moving  distant  steam-boat.  In  a  score 
of  places  in  the  bed  of  the  river  are  springs  emitting  water  loaded 
with  various  minerals  and  gases,  from  which  the  bright  bubbles  play 
upon  the  surface.  A  little  way  up  the  river  are  sulphur  springs,  and 
over  the  mountain  eastward  is  a  wooded  region  abounding  in  game. 
The  vale  itself,  some  ten  miles  square,  seems  set  apart  by  nature  as  a 
region  of  curiosities.  The  only  inhabitants  are  a  few  Morrisite 
Mormons,  the  remnants  of  some  two  hundred  taken  there  by  General 
Connor  in  1863 ;  and  the  few  Americans  who  hold  an  interest  with 
Mr.  Hooper  in  the  location.  The  only  hotel  is  a  rambling  log-cabin, 
and  all  surroundings  are  rural  and  primitive  in  the  extreme.  But 
when  the  narrow-guage  road  is  completed  there  from  Ogden,  I  fancy 
this  place  will  drop  the  prefix  "  future,"  and  become  at  least  the  Sara- 
toga of  Utah  and  Idaho. 

From  my  Idaho  jaunt  I  returned  to  the  Union  Pacific,  and  late  in 


374  WESTERN   WILDS, 

August  left  Ogden  for  St.  Louis  in  one  of  those  rolling  palaces  which 
make  travel  over  this  line  such  a  delight.  What  a  change  from  the 
back  of  an  ambling  American  horse,  on  which  I  made  the  tour  of  Ari- 
zona !  And  I  could  but  ask  myself,  somewhat  doubtfully,  too :  shall 
I  ever  roll  along  the  line  of  the  Thirty-fifth  Parallel  Road  in  a  Pull- 
man palace,  as  I  now  ride  where  four  years  ago  I  toiled  with  mule 
teams?  The  change  would  be  no  greater  than  I  have  seen  here. 

As  I  neared  the  Missouri  I  read  that  twenty  persons  had  died  of 
sunstroke  in  one  day  at  St.  Louis.  And  I  had  spent  most  of  the  sum- 
mer where  one  needed  two  blankets  at  night  to  keep  him  warm  !  I 
concluded  to  wait  a  week  at  the  delightful  city  of  Lawrence,  till  nat- 
ure should  cool  things  oif.  The  same  temperature  in  the  East  is 
much  more  debilitating  to  one  just  from  the  mountains;  it  appears 
more  steamy  and  weakening  than  in  the  dry  air  of  Utah  and  Arizona. 
But  the  last  night  of  August  a  tremendous  thunder-storm  swept  over 
Kansas  and  Missouri,  and  lowered  the  mercury  twenty-five  degrees! 
So  I  visited  St.  Louis  in  comfort,  and  thence  started  to  make  the  trip 
over  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad. 

One  day  I  lingered  at  Nauvoo,  for  I  had  long  been  curious  to  see 
this  old  stronghold  of  the  Mormons.  Their  elders  are  never  weary  of 
telling  the  people  that  it  is  now  a  ruin,  desolate  as  Tyre  or  Babylon. 
I  found  it  a  beautiful  town  of  some  3,000  people.  It  has  the  pretti- 
est site  in  Illinois.  The  river  makes  a  bend  westward  nearly  in  the 
shape  of  a  U ;  the  point  in  the  lower  part  is  a  mile  wide,  and  lies 
just  high  enough  above  the  river  for  commercial  convenience;  and 
thence  the  hill  rises  by  gentle  slopes  for  two  miles  eastward.  At  the 
upper  end  of  the  flat  on  the  river  is  a  splendid  steam-boat  landing, 
and  about  half  way  around  the  bend  the  rapids  begin,  giving  a  fine 
front  for  manufacturing  purposes.  Here  the  Mormons  had  projected  a 
row  of  cotton  mills;  they  were  to  bring  the  cotton  up  the  river,  and 
with  their  own  operatives,  converted  from  the  workshops  of  England, 
build  up  a  great  manufacturing  community.  Could  they  have  main- 
tained peace  with  their  neighbors,  they  would  have  had  some  fifteen 
years  to  perfect  this  scheme  before  the  railroad  era  superseded  river 
transportation,  and  Nauvoo  would  have  had  too  great  a  start  for  the 
tide  to  turn.  They  and  their  apologists  of  course  maintain  that  the 
Gentiles  were  altogether  to  blame  for  the  breaking  up  of  these  fine 
schemes;  but  when  a  man  moves  six  or  seven  times,  and  quarrels 
with  the  neighbors  every  time,  as  they  did,  I  am  inclined  to  conclude 
that  he  takes  the  worst  neighbor  along  with  him  every  move. 

After  the  Mormons  came  the  Icarians,  a  curious  but  harmless  set 


SWINGING  'ROUND   THE  CIRCLE. 


375 


of  visionaries.  It  was  the  era  when  communistic  experiments  were 
in  operation  all  over  the  country — the  era  immediately  succeeding 
"  Brook  Farm,"  Communia,  and  Robert  Owen's  New  Harmony  Soci- 
ety. The  Icarians,  under  the  lead  of  M.  Cabet,  wore  a  uniform,  had 
all  things  in  common,  and  worked  in  detailed  squads.  But  when  one 
man,  or  an  executive  board,  has  to  choose  what  work  every  other  man 
shall  do,  it  soon  appears  a  most  unnatural  system  as  opposed  to 
"  natural  selection."  Here  was  to  be  seen  a  former  college  professor 
herding  swine;  there  a  Paris  goldsmith  driving  oxen,  and  a  well- 
known  scholar,  crack-brained  on  socialistic  theories,  was  made  assist- 
ant sawyer  at  the  society's  mill.  It  cured  him,  however. 

The  Icarians  failed,  of  course,  and  were  in  due  time  succeeded  by  a 
colony  of  Bavarians  and  Westphalians,  who  have  made  a  great  success 
of  the  wine  manufac- 
ture. Where  the  great 
Mormon  temple  once 
stood  is  now  a  fine  vine- 
yard, and  not  one  of 
the  original  stones  re- 
mains. Three  of  the 
neighboring  houses  are 
built  entirely  of  the 
beautiful  white  rock, 
and  the  rest  has  made 
walls  and  foundations 
all  over  town.  This 
wonderful  structure  cost 
between  a  half  and 
three-quarters  of  a  mill- 
ion dollars  in  money 
and  labor,  and  the  Icar- 
ians had  proposed  to  fit 
it  up  as  a  social  hall  and  school-room.  But  at  2  A.  M.  of  November 
10,  1848,  it  was  found  to  be  on  fire,  and  before  daylight  every  particle 
of  woodwork  was  destroyed.  It  was  set  on  fire  in  the  third  story  of 
the  steeple,  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  from  the  ground.  The  dry 
pine  burned  like  tinder;  there  was  no  mode  of  reaching  the  fire,  and 
in  twenty  minutes  the  whole  wooden  interior  was  a  mass  of  flames. 
In  two  hours  nothing  remained  but  hot  walls,  inclosing  a  bed  of  em- 
bers. At  Montrose  and  Fort  Madison,  Iowa,  they  could  distinguish 
every  house  in  Nauvoo,  and  the  light  was  seen  forty  miles  around. 


BURNING  OF  THE  MORMON  TEMPLE. 


376  WESTERN    WILDS. 

Joe  Agnew,  of  Pontoosuc,  fourteen  miles  above  Nauvoo,  afterwards 
confessed  that  he  set  it  on  fire.  He  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the 
Mormons,  and  sworn  no  trace  'of  them  should  cumber  the  soil  of 
Illinois. 

The  walls  long  stood  in  such  perfect  preservation  that  the  citizens 
determined  again  to  refit  it  for  an  academy.  But  in  November,  1850, 
a  fearful  hurricane  swept  down  the  river,  and  threw  down  most  of  the 
structure.  From  the  deck  of  a  Mississippi  steamer  Nauvoo,  which 
once  had  fourteen  thousand  inhabitants,  now  looks  like  a  suburb  of 
retired  country  seats,  stretching  for  two  or  three  miles  up  a  handsome 
slope  ;  and  thousands  yearly  pass  on  the  river  admiring  the  rural  beauty 
of  the  place,  but  little  thinking  that  a  third  of  a  century  since  it  was 
the  largest  city  in  Illinois,  and  the  most  notorious  in  America,  the 
chosen  stronghold  of  a  most  peculiar  faith  and  destined  capital  of 
a  vast  religious  empire. 

Thence  by  steamer  to  Burlington,  and  thence  by  the  Burlington  & 
Missouri  River  Railroad  to  Council  Bluffs.  There  I  took  the  north- 
ward route,  and  in  due  time  arrived  at  Sioux  City,  which  had  greatly 
improved  in  the  year  since  1  last  visited  it.  The  "Hawkeyes," 
(State  designation  for  Iowa  people),  are  a  progressive  race ;  but  the 
"  lay  of  the  country  "  is  such  that  their  energy  must  ever  tend  to  build 
up  a  great  State  rather  than  any  one  great  city.  The  growth  of  Iowa 
in  wealth  and  population  is  amazing,  but  she  has  no  metropolis  which 
takes  the  place  Chicago  does  in  Illinois  or  St.  Louis  in  Missouri. 
Her  development  is  destined  to  proceed  on  a  different  plan. 

We  staged  it  again  to  Yankton,  along  the  line  where  the  S.  C.  & 
Y.  Railroad  now  runs ;  and  found  the  inhabitants  hotly  engaged  in 
the  great  job  of  saving  the  country.  Dakota  Territory  has  always 
been  noted  for  the  heat  and  acrimony  of  her  politics ;  and  though  the 
Grant-Greeley  campaign  was  marked  for  its  bitterness,  the  storm  in 
the  rest  of  the  nation  was  as  the  balminess  of  a  May  morning  com- 
pared with  its  fury  in  Dakota.  Now,  General  McCook,  Secretary  of 
the  Territory,  and  one  of  the  "Fighting  McCook's,"  was  the  central 
figure  of  a  local  quarrel.  A  year  or  two  later  he  attacked  a  delicate 
little  banker  named  Wintermute,  and  pounded  him  almost  to  a  jelly. 
Wintermute  walked  out,  procured  a  pistol,  and  returning,  shot  Mc- 
Cook dead  in  the  ball-room !  I  could  not  join  in  the  cry  for  venge- 
ance which  went  over  the  country,  for  I  knew  the  slayer  to  be  a 
naturally  inoffensive  man,  who  had  been  cruelly  outraged.  Most  of 
the  Federal  officials  made  it  a  personal  matter  to  assist  in  the  pros- 
ecution of  Wintermute,  but  western  juries  are  proverbially  lenient 


SWINGING  'ROUND   THE  CIRCLE. 


377 


in  such  cases.  He  was  sentenced  to  a  fe\v  years  imprisonment;  but 
his  delicate  constitution  could  not  survive  the  beating  and  the  sen- 
tence, and  consumption  soon  took  him  beyond  the  reach  of  earthly 
courts.  I  shall  ever  maintain  that  he  was  the  real  victim  of  the 
tragedy,  and  should  never  have  been  imprisoned. 

Our  party  had  various  opinions  as  to  the  best  way  to  see  the 
country  on  the  North 
Pacific  line.  The  first 
plan  was  to  take  a  team 
and  go  up  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Territory, 
by  way  of  the  beautiful 
valley  of  James  River, 
then  over  the  divide  and 
northward  down  Red 
River.  The  distance 
was  three  hundred 
miles;  there  were  long 
stretches  of  country 
without  a  settlement, 
and  the  season  was  get- 
ting late.  So  this  was  in  due  time  reconsidered.  The  next  was  to  go 
up  the  Missouri  to  the  proposed  crossing,  and  stage  it  across  to  the  end 
of  the  road.  But  soon  came  a  steam-boat  down  the  river  with  word 
that  navigation  was  closed  for  this  year,  though  it  was  still  early  in 
September ;  then  we  decided  to  return  to  Sioux  City,  and  go  through 
Minnesota.  A  man  can't  travel  as  he  pleases  in  the  new  North-west. 

We  had  enough  of  staging,  and  concluded  to  try  it  by  steamer 
down  to  Sioux  City.  The  distance  by  land  is  sixty-five  miles;  by 
river  a  hundred  and  fifty.  The  time  is  just  as  it  happens.  You 
must  start  when  the  boat  is  ready,  and  take  your  chances  on  board, 
sometimes  getting  through  in  ten  hours,  sometimes  in  thirty.  We 
made  splendid  time  all  forenoon,  the  low  clay  banks  receding  so  rap- 
idly that  their  natural  ugliness  was  changed  to  a  swiftly  gliding  view 
of  something  nearly  like  beauty.  The  water  is  a  little  thicker  than 
cream,  but  not  quite  as  thick  as  plaster,  and  of  a  dirty  yellow  color, 
its  solid  contents  consisting  of  nearly  equal  parts  of  fine  clay  and  silt; 
but  when  taken  aboard  and  settled,  it  is  very  palatable.  Immedi- 
ately on  the  river,  the  timber  is  small  and  scrubby,  but  a  mile  or  so 
back  are  fine  forests  of  good-sized  trees,  for  a  mile  or  two,  and  behind 
them  the  richest  prairie  "  bottom "  in  the  world,  varying  in  width 


KILLING  OF  SECRETARY  M'COOK. 


378  WESTERN  WILDS. 

from  five  to  twenty  miles,  and  yielding  to  gentle  foot-hills  and  wooded 
bluffs.  In  three  or  four  places  the  river  spreads  to  a  mile  or  more  in 
width,  broken  by  sand-bars  and  low  islands;  there  the  boat  usually 
stuck  fast  for  awhile,  till  the  hands  could  "  pole  off,"  when  she  would 
back  out  and  try  other  channels  till  one  was  found  passable. 

At  such  times  the  captain  cheered  us  with  such  appropriate  remarks 
as:  "D — d  channel  was  on  that  side  when  I  came  up.  Thought  the 
river  would  take  a  sky-wash  round  the  other  way,  judgin'  from  the 
set  ag'in  that  bluff.  But  there's  nothing  impossible  under  this  admin- 
istration. Howsomever,  we'll  make  Sioux  City  by  supper  time,  if  we 
don't  fall  down."  This  last  was  a  facetious  reference  to  the  system  of 
sparring  off  with  the  "boat's  crutches."  But  we  did  "fall  down" 
about  noon,  running  hard  aground  on  the  head  of  a  sand  island, 
located  probably  where  the  channel  was  deepest  a  month  before. 
Then  oaths,  spars, "  nigger-engine  "  and  all  the  other  available  machinery 
were  set  in  operation ;  and  after  two  hours  of  swearing,  bell  ringing, 
and  toil,  the  stern  was  got  far  enough  into  the  current  to  swing 
around ;  then  all  control  of  it  was  lost,  and  that  end  grounded  below. 
Then  the  bow  was  shoved  off,  swung  around  and  stuck  again ;  then 
the  stern  made  a  half-circle  swing,  and  thus  on,  in  a  series  of  swings 
and  "  drags,"  over  half-sunken  trees,  the  boat  groaning  through  all 
her  timbers  like  a  thing  possessed,  we  made  a  final  swing  off  the  lower 
end  of  the  island,  and  floated  on.  When  they  spar  thus  at  both  ends 
they  are  said  to  "  grasshopper  "  over  the  difficulty. 

Reaching  Sioux  City,  we  found  there  had  been  a  fearful  murder, 
two  robberies  and  a  street  fight  in  which  a  dozen  engaged,  all  within 
twenty-four  hours.  And  still  Sioux  City  was  not  happy.  Thence 
we  traveled  north-east  by  way  of  the  Sioux  City  &  St.  Paul  Rail- 
road, most  of  the  day  over  a  country  with  the  same  general  char- 
acter: a  high  and  gently  rolling  prairie,  without  sloughs,  with 
very  rich  soil  and  rank  grass,  but  no  timber.  Having  passed  the 
"  divide,"  we  soon  entered  upon  the  system  of  streams  flowing  into 
the  Minnesota  River,  and  left  the  "  Land  of  the  Sleepy "  for  the 
"  Blue-water  Land."  This  poetic  designation  of  Minnesota  (from  the 
Sioux  minne  "  water  "  and  sola  "  blue "),  is  the  most  fitting  name  the 
State  could  have  received.  In  the  year  1859,  that  State  was  my 
residence,  and  even  now  my  heart  thrills  at  recollection  of  its  sum- 
mer beauties:  green  plains,  tasteful  groves,  crystal  lakes  and  clear 
streams  lively  with  fish.  But  here  I  ask  the  reader's  permission  to 
turn  back  thirteen  years.  The  notes  in  the  next  chapter  are  from  ojb- 
servations  both  during  my  residence  and  later  visits. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


MINNESOTA. 

IN  July,  1859,  I  stood  on  the  banks  of  Rum  River  and  watched 
the  long  trains  of  Bois  Brules  from  Pembina,  slowly  descending 
that  stream  to  St.  Paul.  Their  carts  were  made  entirely  of  wood, 
from  bed  and  wheel  to  lynch-pin,  and  were  drawn  by  oxen,  one  to 
each  cart  in  most  cases;  men,  carts  and  animals  splashed  and  clotted 
with  the  black  mud  of  the  many  sloughs  they  had  crossed.  The  dry 
season,  neglect 
and  alternate 
soaking  and 
shrinking  during 
the  long  journey 
through  the  "  di- 
vide "  and  lake 
region,  had 
brought  the  ve- 
hicles to  a 
wretched  condi- 
tion; and  the 
heavily  dragging 
wheels  kept  up  a 
wailing  creecliy, 
crawcliy,  creechy, 
erawchy  that 
could  be  heard 
nearly  half  a  mile — "a  cry  for  grease,"  which  went  to  the  soul. 

The  custom  of  these  people,  then,  was  to  devote  the  late  autumn  and 
early  winter  to  hunting  and  trapping;  the  rest  of  the  winter  was 
fairly  divided  between  merry-making  and  preparing  the  furs  and  pelts 
they  had  taken ;  and  when  the  late  May  sunshine  had  brought  forward 
grass  enough  for  their  animals  the  trains  departed  southward.  At  St. 
Paul  they  sold  the  proceeds  of  their  last  hunt,  and  laid  in  supplies  for 
the  next  year.  The  importance  of  the  trade  to  St.  Paul  was  great: 

(379) 


PEOPLE  FROM  PEMBINA  AXD  THEIR  OX-CARTS. 


380 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


for  weeks  one  or  more  trains  arrived  daily,  each  with  from  ten  to  two 
hundred  carts,  and  each  cart  piled  high  with  furs  and  skins. 

Most  of  the  drivers  were  of  the  pure  Bois  Brules  stock,  and  merely 
greeted  me  with  the  quick,  forward  jerk  of  the  head,  and  the  sharp 
u  bon-jour,"  which  is  the  universal  salutation  in  the  North-west;  but 
here  and  there  in  the  train  was  a  cart  of  more  than  ordinary  preten- 


WINTF.R  IN  THE  MINNESOTA  PINERIES. 


sions,  generally  drawn  by  two  oxen,  and  sometimes  shielded  by  a 
rude  awning,  containing  one  or  two  white  men,  factors  of  the  fur 
companies,  or  young  Englishmen  returning  from  the  posts.  Perhaps 
a  score  of  full-blood  Chippeways  accompanied  the  train.  These  are 
a  tall,  well-made  race  of  Indians,  with  a  complexion  redder  than  that 
of  the  Sioux  or  Arapahoes,  not  so  dark  and  beastly  looking;  and  their 
half-blood  descendants  share  in  all  these  peculiarities. 

The  words  Bois  Brules  signify  "burnt  woods,"  and  happily  indicate 


MINNESOTA.  381 

the  dark-red  complexion  of  the  half  breeds.  They  and  the  Mexicans 
constitute,  I  believe,  the  only  permanent  types  resulting  from  the 
union  of  Europeans  with  our  Aborigines.  As  near  as  I  can  de- 
termine from  their  appearance  and  history,  they  are  about  half  white, 
half  Indian,  and  have  long  maintained  this  blood  in  a  condition  of 
purity.  They  live  both  in  our  Territory  and  over  the  line,  number 
thousands,  and  are  a  polite,  gay  and  hospitable  people,  more  musical 
than  thoughtful,  more  lively  than  intelligent.  The  neighboring  whites 
have  corrupted  the  name  into  "  Bob  Ruly,"  as  their  Bois  Blancs 
(White  Woods),  slang  for  white  men,  has  in  turn  become  "  Bob  Long; " 
so  the  original  population  of  Pembina  is  made  up  of  the  two  classes, 
Bob  Rulys  and  Bob  Longs. 

These  are  to  be  mentioned  first,  as  the  original  settlers  of  Minne- 
sota. Save  the  occasional  missionary,  Indian  trader,  hunter  or  gov- 
ernment official,  the  country  contained  but  few  white  men  before  1845. 
The  Chippeways  (Ojibbeways)  dominated  the  northern  section,  the 
Sioux  the  southern;  and  the  "divide,"  between  the  drainage  of  Red 
River  and  Minnesota,  was  their  border  and  battle-ground  for  ages. 
At  last  the  whites  began  to  crowd  the  Sioux,  from  the  south ;  and  the 
Chippeways,  under  the  lead  of  the  great  Pahya  Goonsey — red  Napo- 
leon of  the  North-west — drove  them  beyond  Red  River,  which  re- 
mains the  boundary  of  the  two  races.  Then  French  settlements 
slowly  stretched  down  from  the  north,  and  American  up  from  the 
south;  and  in  1850-'55  came  the  great  speculative  era  of  Minnesota. 
Every  new  country  must  have  such  a  rise — and,  alas !  such  a  fall. 

There  was  for  years  the  humbug  and  hurrah  of  the  "glorious  free 
and  boundless  West ; "  and  in  1856  and  '57  every  thing  was  selling  at 
three  or  four  times  its  actual  value,  and  every  third  man  was  a  mill- 
ionaire in  town  lots.  The  crash  came,  and  the  wealthy,  who  had 
indorsed  for  each  other,  fell  like  a  row  of  bricks,  each  knocking  down 
the  next.  Every  man  rushed  off  to  his  lawyer  to  sue  his  neighbor, 
compromise  with  his  creditors,  or  put  his  property  out  of  his  hands. 
The  laws  of  different  legislatures  were  in  conflict;  judges  construed 
them  one  -vay  in  one  court,  and  in  another  directly  the  opposite.  The 
Democratic  administration  of  1858  burdened  the  young  State  with  a 
heavy  railroad  debt,  which  the  next  administration,  Republican,  repu- 
diated, and  on  top  of  all  this  came  the  grasshoppers. 

The  crop  of  1856  was  half  destroyed;  the  next  year  every  green 
thing  was  eaten,  the  insects  leaving  the  country  black  behind  them. 
The  crop  of  1858  did  not  half  pay  taxes  and  debts,  and  when  I 
arrived,  in  May,  1859,  the  mass  of  the  people  were  living  on  corn- 


382  WESTERN   WILDS. 

bread,  potatoes  and  "green  truck,"  with  an  occasional  mess  of  fish 
or  game.  It  was  a  nice  country  for  a  delicate  young  student,  just 
removed  from  school  on  account  of  bad  health.  I  hoed  corn,  drove 
teams,  chopped  wood  and  cultivated  muscle.  There  was  plenty  to  eat, 
such  as  it  was,  but  no  luxuries,  and  before  the  close  of  the  year  I  was 
again  in  sound  health.  But  I  have  no  desire  to  repeat  the  experi- 
ence. There  was  too  much  pure  Darwinism  in  such  a  country — "  nat- 
ural selection  and  survival  of  the  fittest."  The  man  who  could  not 
accommodate  himself  rapidly  to  poverty  and  hardships,  had  to  die 
or  emigrate. 

Better  crops  came,  and  the  settlers  looked  forward  to  the  end  of 
their  troubles,  when  the  Sioux  war  of  1862  suddenly  cut  off'  their 
hopes,  and  many  of  my  friends  in  Blue-earth  County  were  ruined,  a 
few  losing  their  lives.  But  the  country  had  natural  wealth  in  abun- 
dance, and  Yankee  energy  has  triumphed  over  all  difficulties.  After 
thirteen  years  I  entered  a  rich  and  prosperous  county  by  rail,  where 
I  had  tramped,  knapsack  in  hand,  through  a  comparative  wilderness. 
The  Winnebago  Reservation,  unbroken  by  the  plow  when  I  first 
crossed  it,  is  now  a  populous  farming  district;  and  Mankato,  then  a 
straggling  village  of  six  or  eight  hundred,  is  now  a  flourishing  city  of 
five  thousand  people.  But  the  effects  of  the  "hard  times"  of  1857— 
759  still  remain  in  many  places,  in  the  shape  of  interminable  lawsuits, 
unsettled  titles,  broken  fortunes,  neighborhood  feuds,  and  men  whose 
energy  is  gone  and  their  temper  soured  by  disappointment.  Many  a 
Minnesota  woman  is  prematurely  old  from  the  troubles  of  that  period, 
and  even  in  the  faces  of  those  I  then  knew  as  children  I  fancy  I  can 
see  some  pinching  lines  which  ought  not  to  mar  the  visage  of  bloom- 
ing youth,  unpleasing  reminders  of  a  childhood  passed  without  its 
natural  pleasures,  and  stinted  because  of  parental  poverty. 

Thence  to  St.  Paul  I  noted,  with  the  pleasure  of  a  pioneer,  the  great 
improvements  of  thirteen  years.  Hamlets  have  become  large  towns; 
unimportant  towns  have  grown  to  cities.  St.  Paul  I  found  nearly 
trebled  in  size,  and  lively  with  twenty  thousand  visitors  attending  the 
State  Fair.  On  the  grounds  were  specimens  of  vegetation  from  every 
spot  for  seven  hundred  miles  north  and  west.  Notable  among  these  were 
bunches  of  wild  rice  from  the  northern  lakes  ;  monster  turnips  and  beets 
from  the  line  of  the  Northern  Pacific ;  native  grass  from  Red  River 
Valley,  four  feet  long,  and  wheat  grown  jat  Fort  Garry,  Red  River 
Settlement,  B.  A*.,  which  yielded  seventy  bushels  per  acre.  St.  Paul 
is  in  the  south-eastern  corner,  and  is  the  natural  entrcpdt,  of  a  wheat- 
growing  region  four  hundred  miles  square.  Fertile  land  continues  to 


MINNESOTA.  383 

a  point  two  hundred  miles  north  of  our  national  boundary;  there  a 
sandy  desert  sets  in,  and  continues  to  the  Arctic  Circle. 

This  State  and  Dakota  Territory  have  many  features  in  common. 
On  the  western  border  of  the  State,  and  forming  a  part  of  the  bound- 
ary line  between  it  and  Dakota,  are  two  lakes — Big  Stone  and  Traverse. 
The  southern  one,  lying  north-west  and  south-east  is  Big  Stone,  thirty- 
one  miles  long  and  only  three-fourths  to  one  and  a  half  miles  wide, 
with  bold  shores  fifty  to  eighty  feet  high — beautiful  in  summer,  filled 
with  fish  and  abounding  in  water-fowl.  On  its  shores  50,000  people 
could  witness  a  boat  race  over  a  course  of  ten  miles  or  more.  About 
it  linger  many  curious  and  wild  traditions  of  the  Indians.  This  lake 
is  simply  a  deep,  wide  river  channel,  resembling  points  on  the  Upper 
Mississippi,  where  there  is  no  valley  or  low  land  along  the  river. 
Lake  Traverse  was  originally  a  part  of  it — a  continuation  of  it  north- 
ward— resembling  it  in  all  respects.  But  now  they  are  separated  by 
about  four  miles  of  low  valley  of  the  same  width. 

Into  and  through  this  valley  runs  a  creek — head  of  the  Minnesota 
River — which  rises  in  Dakota  and  flows  close  by  the  south  end  of 
Lake  Traverse  and  into  Big  Stone  Lake,  issuing  again  from  its  south- 
eastern end,  and  joining  the  Mississippi  near  St.  Paul.  Traverse  is 
not  so  large  or  long  as  Big  Stone,  and  as  one  passes  along  its  western 
shore,  the  hills  grow  lower  and  recede  from  it.  Its  shores  become 
marshy,  and  it  narrows  to  a  lagoon,  and  finally  into  a  stream  or  river 
with  scarcely  a  noticeable  current.  At  Breckinridge,  Minnesota,  or 
Wahpeton,  Dakota,  this  stream  is  joined  by  the  Otter  Tail  River,  a 
somewhat  rapid  stream  of  considerable  volume.  Where  the  two  unite 
(the  one  from  Traverse  is  called  the  Bois  des  Sioux,  or  properly  the 
Sioux  Wood  River)  both  names  cease,  and  the  Red  River  of  the  North 
begins.  It  is  a  river  at  once.  From  this  point  it  flows  three  hundred 
miles,  in  a  right  line,  to  Lake  Winnepeg,  in  British  America. 

The  fertile  valley  of  Red  River,  is  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
wide,  half  in  the  State  and  half  in  Dakota.  Westward  it  yields  to  the 
higher  lands  and  soon  to  the  barren  couteau,  fit  for  nothing  but  scant 
pasturage.  In  the  valley  are  now  some  of  the  largest  wheat  farms  in 
the  world.  There  a  dozen  or  more  teams  can  be  seen  in  early  sum- 
mer, following  each  other  With  successive  furrows — plowing  on  the 
same  "  land,"  which  is  a  township.  The  furrows  are  six  miles  long. 
They  just  make  two  rounds  per  day,  going  up  and  back,  taking  din- 
ner and  then  repeating.  One  mounted  man  commands  the  whole,  and 
a  cart  with  a  few  tools  accompanies.  If  any  thing  befalls  a  plow  or 
team  the  driver  turns  out  and  lets  the  other  pass,  starting  in  again 


384  WESTERN   WILDS. 

when  the'repair  is  made.  Upon  a  large  wheat  field,  in  1876,  six  self- 
binding  reapers  worked  in  like  order. 

But  there  are  other  novel  features.  The  northern  boundary  is  the 
forty-ninth  parallel.  Hence  the  days  in  summer  are  noticeably  long, 
and  the  twilight  in  proportion,  so  that  at  Pembina,  June  20,  it  is  not 
entirely  dark  much  before  10  P.  M.,  and  early  dawn  begins  but  little 
later  than  2  A.  M.  People  who  desire  to  sleep  long  retire  while  it  is 
yet  light,  and  darken  the  windows,  very  much  as  they  do  in  Norway 
or  Iceland.  But  winter  presents  a  sharp  contrast.  Daylight  delays 
till  half-past  nine,  and  dark  comes  soon  after  three.  At  Pembina 
one  is  on  the  49th  degree  north,  while  the  sun  in  December  is  23°  south 
of  the  equator — total  72°,  which  from  90°  leaves  18°,  tlie  height  of  the 
sun  above  the  horizon  at  noon.  The  sky  is  often  brilliantly  clear  for 
weeks  at  a  time,  but  there  is  not  warmth  enough  in  the  sun  to  loosen 
an  icicle  on  the  south  side  of  the  house. 

But  it  is  warm  enough  in  summer.  The  winter  before  I  was  there, 
"Wright  County  enjoyed  four  months  continuous  sleighing.  The  next 
June  a  pumpkin-vine  I  measured  grew  four  and  a  half  inches  in 
twenty -four  hours.  The  snow  is  usually  gone  by  the  10th  of  April; 
the  ground  dries  rapidly,  and  farmers  often  plow  upon  the  south  slope 
while  the  snow  still  lies  on  the  north  slope.  The  soil  has  a  mixture 
of  black  sand,  and  freezes  so  hard  in  winter  that  it  never  clods  or 
" bakes"  in  summer.  The  local  records  show  that  the  year  should  be 
divided  thus:  Winter,  five  months;  spring,  one  month;  summer,  four 
months;  autumn,  two  months.  The  summer  heat  would  be  very  op- 
pressive but  for  the  breeze  which  is  almost  constant  from  the  west  and 
south-west.  If  it  changes  to  the  east,  there  is  apt  to  be  a  cold,  chilly 
rain ;  if  it  ceases,  which  is  rare,  the  heat  is  so  great  the  natives  can 
scarcely  work. 

A  suggestion  to  tourists  is  in  order.  Through  the  lakes  to  Duluth, 
thence  by  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  to  Fargo,  thence  down  the 
Red  River — on  which  steamers  ply  all  summer — to  Winnipeg  and 
Garry,  is  a  summer  excursion  yielding  more  variety  in  men  and  man- 
ners than  any  that  can  be  taken  in  the  West.  The  scenery  is  often 
sublime,  though  not  equal  to  that  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  al- 
ways beautiful.  The  lakes  are  alive  with  fish ;  water-fowl  are  abun- 
dant. Here  is  a  highway  northward  into  the  heart  of  the  upper  coun- 
try, all  the  way  easy  of  passage,  and  much  cheaper  than  the  trip  to 
California,  or  even  to  Colorado.  There  are  splendid  hotels  at  Duluth, 
Brainard,  Moorehead,  Fargo  and  Glyndon,  and  tolerably  good  living 
all  the  way  from  there  down.  "Barring"  the  mosquitoes,  which  you 


MINNESOTA. 


385 


can  guard  against  by  "  taking  the  vail/'  as  the  residents  do,  there  is  no 
physical  inconvenience,  and  the  air  is  ever  pure  and  bracing.  You 
can  enjoy  the  sensation  of  a  day  eighteen  or  twenty  hours  long,  and 
see  the  sun  as  low  at  noon  in  summer  as  it  is  in  Ohio  in  winter. 
With  this  hint  I  resume  toy  personal  narrative. 

From  St.  Paul  we  took  the  cars  northward  along  the  left  bank  of 
the  Mississip- 
pi,  passing 
through  rich 
prairies  and 
"oak  o  p  e  n- 
ings,"  the  lat- 
ter looking 
very  much  like 
old  orchards. 
We  are  rarely 
out  of  sight  of 
crystal  lakes, 
which  add 
such  a  charm 
to  the  Minne- 
sota landscape. 
The  State  con- 
tains ten  thou- 
sand lakes,  va- 
rying from  a 
few  acres  to 

many  miles  in  extent.  In  the  angle  between  the  Mississippi  and 
Minnesota  Rivers  is  a  region  rich  in  scenery  and  historic  interest. 
There  the  Minnehaha  plunges  down  from  the  prairie  level  to  the  Mis- 
sissippi by  the  Minnehaha  Falls,  so  well  known  to  the  world  through 
the  genius  of  Longfellow.  On  the  prairie  level  are  crystal  Jakes,  syl- 
van groves  and  picturesque  knolls,  among  which  the  tourist  may  spend 
weeks  of  enjoyment.  The  railroad  ended  at  Sauk  Rapids,  where  we 
halted  for  a  day.  This  is  to  be  the  great  manufacturing  city  of  this 
region,  the  rapids  of  the  Mississippi  furnishing  unlimited  water-power, 
but  as  yet  the  citizens  have  done  little  beyond  the  preliminary  wind 
work.  In  1859  this  was  thought  to  be  the  head  of  all  navigation, 
and  only  two  little  steamers  plied  above  St.  Anthony  Falls;  now 
smaller  boats  run  from  Sauk  Rapids  to  Brainard,  and  sometimes 
25 


MINNEHAHA   IN  WINTKK. 


386  WESTERN  WILDS. 

farther.  The  Mississippi  parts  with  its  greatness  slowly.  Away  up 
here  it  still  has  the  appearance  of  a  big  river. 

From  Sank  we  take  the  stage-coach — a  little  jerky  carrying  ten 
passengers,  among  them  a  Sister  and  Mother  Superior  of  the  Order 
of  St.  Francis.  These  were  on  their  way  to  Belle  Prairie,  a  mission 
in  the  "  Big  Woods,"  to  take  charge  of  a  frontier  academy,  and  teach 
letters,  language  and  religion  to  little  half-breeds  and  Chippeways. 
The  Mother  Superior  was  a  lady  of  rare  intelligence,  just  from  Eu- 
rope, where  she  had  been  nursing  the  sick  and  wounded  of  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war.  To  my  remark  that  I  doubted  the  possibility  of  con- 
verting an  Indian,  she  replied  with  great  feeling :  "  Oh,  perhaps  not 
in  my  time,  but  surely  soon,  the  race  will  know  and  accept  the  truth. 
We  work  for  God,  and  He  will  take  care  of  it.  If  we  convert  one  it 
will  repay  us  ten  thousand  fold." 

Near  midnight  we  left  them  at  Belle  Prairie,  a  hamlet  of  a  few  cab- 
ins, with  a  small  school-house,  and  near  by  a  chapel,  its  white  cross 
gleaming  in  the  cold  moonlight,  fit  symbol  of  the  Sisters'  life  and 
work.  How  wonderful  is  this  wide  extended  power  of  the  Church  of 
Rome  !  Who  can  travel  beyond  the  reach  of  her  world-embracing 
arms  ?  Alike  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Rio  Grande, 
I  have  seen  the  white  cross  of  her  chapels ;  and  on  the  wild  frontier 
and  in  the  hut  of  the  savage  have  met  her  hardy  missionaries,  bronzed 
by  every  sun  and  weather-beaten  by  the  storms  of  every  sky  from 
Pembina  to  Arizona.  Is  it  any  wonder,  considering  her  celibate 
clergy,  who  make  the  flock  their  family  and  the  whole  world  their 
home,  and  her  holy  orders  of  devoted  women,  to  whom  suffering  and 
self-denial  are  sweet  for  the  sake  of  the  Church — is  it  any  wonder  that 
a  quarter  of  a  billion  souls  attest  her  power,  and,  to  the  reproach  of 
us  Protestants,  over  half  the  Christian  world  still  owns  allegiance  to 
Rome? 

Soon  after  we  reached  Crow  Wing,  and  remained  till  near  noon 
next  day.  Thence  an  hour  of  rapid  driving  brought  us  into  the  Black 
Pine  Forest,  in  the  center  of  which  we  found  the  "  city  "  of  Brainard — 
on  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  at  last.  The  streets  were  lively 
with  representatives  of  three  great  races — for  it  was  Sunday — and  all 
the  railroad  employes  were  in  town  to  drink  and  trade.  The  princi- 
pal saloonatic  had  secured  a  rare  attraction :  a  band  of  fifteen  Chippe- 
ways were  performing  the  "  war  dance  "  before  his  door,  to.  the  music 
of  a  drum  and  buckskin  tambourine,  and  drinks  were  going  as  fast  as 
two  men  could  serve  the  crowd.  After  each  dance  the  only  "  brave  " 
who  could  speak  English  went  around  with  the  hat,  exclaiming, 


MINNESOTA.  387 

"  Ten-n-cen-nts  a  man-n  !  ten-n-cen-nts  a  man-n !"  the  result  being 
money  enough  to  treat  the  band  to  white  sugar,  of  which  they  are 
passionately  fond.  Near  by  a  white  roud  was  trying  to  strike  a  bar- 
gain with  a  rather  pretty  Chippeway  girl  of  fourteen  years  or  so,  who 
was  in  charge  of  an  older  sister,  a  withered  hag  at  least  thirty  years 
old,  and  therefore  past  all  show  of  comeliness,  as  is  the  nature  of  In- 
dian women.  Behind  stood  a  half-breed  squaw,  about  as  "  pretty  "  as 
a  wild-cat  struck  with  a  club.  Ten  rods  away,  afternoon  service  was 
in  progress  at  the  Episcopal  Church,  the  only  one  in  the  place ;  and 
across  the  street  a  maison  de  joie  kept  open  doors,  its  inmates  at  the 
windows  with  a  lavish  display  of  mammiferous  wealth.  No  work  was 
in  progress;  most  of  the  men  had  on  clean  shirts,  and  the  holy  Sab- 
bath was  strictly  kept — in  Far  Western  fashion. 

The  "  city  "  had  one  great  advantage  over  Union  Pacific  towns :  the 
houses  were  all  of  lumber,  and  the  native  pines  still  lined  the  streets. 
Here  the  great  Mississippi  has  at  last  shrunk  to  a  stream  no  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  wide  and  perhaps  ten  feet  deep ;  a  hundred 
miles  north  would  bring  us  into  that  circle  of  lakes — Itasca,  Leech, 
Cass  and  Plantagenet — which  jointly  form  its  source.  Around, 
mostly  to  the  east,  are  ten  thousand  square  miles  covered  with  the 
white  and  yellow  varieties  of  Norway  pine,  constituting  the  great 
wealth  of  Upper  Minnesota.  Next  morning  a  lowering  sky  gave  no- 
tice that  the  first  storm  of  the  season  was  at  hand,  and  as  the  train 
moved  westward  the  air  hinted  of  snow.  For  seventy-five  miles  the 
country  is  nearly  worthless  for  agricultural  purposes;  then  we  move 
down  a  gentle  slope,  and  enter  the  fertile  valley  of  Red  River.  The 
little  lakes  are  beautiful.  In  winter  they  are  frozen  almost  solid,  and 
then  is  the  best  time  for  freighting  f  the  sled  routes  take  a  direct  line 
from  point  to  point  without  regard  to  lakes  or  sloughs. 

Moorehead,  on  the  eastern  bank  of  Red  River,  is  the  end  of  a  pas- 
senger division,  and  the  nominal  head  of  navigation ;  but  it  is  only  in 
the  months  of  June  and  July  that  any  steamers  run  to  that  point. 
Frog  Point,  sixty  miles  below  (northward),  is  the  head  of  navigation 
for  the  rest  of  the  summer,  though  boats  rarely  ply  before  the  latter 
part  of  May.  As  Red  River  has  a  general  course  due  north,  the  thaw 
occurs  at  the  head  first,  and  forces  a  great  break  up  and  massing  of  the 
ice  down  at  Fort  Garry  and  other  ports  in  Winnepeg.  Straw-ticks, 
beef,  bread,  and  potatoes  could  be  had  for  $2.00  per  day  in  either  of 
the  new  frame  hotels  then  adorning  Moorehead;  but  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  requiring  more  than  a  night's  stay.  Omnibuses  were 
not,  so  we  carried  our  baggage  a  mile,  across  the  bridge  and  through 


388  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Fargo,  Dakota,  to  the  construction  train,  on  which  we  traversed  the 
last  hundred  miles  of  the  road.  For  fifty  miles  west  of  Red 
River  the  country  appears  as  level  as  the  calm  ocean;  the  rank  grass 
above,  and  the  black  soil  below,  as  shown  in  the  cuts,  indicate  great 
fertility.  The  biting  wind  from  the  north-west  brought  a  chilling 
rain,  and  after  it  sleet  and  finally  snow,  which  last  was  a  great  im- 
provement on  the  sleet.  We  had  been  assured  by  Jay  Cooke  that 
"the  isothermal  line  takes  a  great  northward  deflection  west  of  the 
Great  Lakes,"  giving  this  a  mild  climate ;  but  a  snow  storm  in  Sep- 
tember did  not  indicate  it. 

We  crossed  the  Shyene  River  twice,  and  soon  after  ran  through  the 
edge  of  Salt  Lake — so  called,  though  little  like  the  great  one  in  Utah. 
It  appears  to  be  about  five  miles  long,  is  thickly  impregnated  with 
salt  and  alkali,  and  has  an  outlet  only  in  very  wet  weather.  The  ter- 
minus of  the  road  was  then  at  Jim  town,  near  the  western  limit  of  fer- 
tile land.  The  cold  was  severe  and  the  wind  blowing  almost  a  hurri- 
cane. As  my  blue  fingers  stiffened  around  the  handle  of  my  valise, 
and  the  canvas  town  clattered  in  the  wind  as  if  it  would  fly  away,  the 
thermometer  standing  at  28°,  and  the  air  full  of  flying  snow,  I  was  in- 
clined to  set  down  most  I  had  heard  about  this  "  mild  and  salubrious 
climate "  as  the  exuberance  of  a  playful  fancy.  But  in  a  day  or  two 
the  storm  yielded  to  sunshine,  October  came  in  gloriously,  and  good 
weather  continued  a  month  longer.  The  storm  prevented  our  excur- 
sion beyond  the  terminus,  but  from  abundant  testimony  I  am  con- 
vinced there  is  little  to  see  but  rolling  plains  scantily  clothed  with 
grass,  alkali  flats  and  sand-hills.  The  fertile  land  lies  along  the  east- 
ern border. 

From  Jimtown  eastward  to  Duluth  developed  no  new  features. 
First  we  had  a  hundred  miles  of  Red  River  Valley"  to  Fargo  and 
Moorehead ;  fifty  miles  of  the  same  on  the  eastern  side ;  then  the  rise 
to  Detroit  lakes,  and  then  the  half-barren  strip  of  marsh  and  pine, 
tamarack  and  scrub-oak  flat,  till  we  got  within  seventy-five  miles  of 
Duluth.  Thence  the  country  rapidly  improved;  the  soil  and  timber 
were  fine,  and  scenery  on  the  St.  Louis  River  approaching  ihe  grand. 
Duluth  had  become  historic — it  is  more  historic  than  commercial,  still, 
for  that  matter.  "  The  Zenith  City  of  the  unsalted  seas,"  as  the  local 
poets  modestly  styled  it,  did  not  appear  to  advantage  just  after  a  Sep- 
tember snow-storm ;  but  it  was  lively  with  immigrants,  colony  agents, 
real  estate  speculators,  travelers  and  freighters. 

Since  then  the  German-Russian  Mennonites  have  been  pouring  into 
Southern  Dakota  by  thousands,  and  it  is  evident  the  future  population 


MINNESOTA. 


389 


of  our  new  North-west  will  consist  largely  of  Scandinavians  and  kin- 
dred races.  They  are  wheat-eaters,  Bible-readers,  and  Calvinists; 
they  establish  schools  and 
churches,  are  anchored  to 
the  soil,  and  constitute  a 
conservative  and  most  de- 
sirable class  of  citizens. 
An  old  traveler  relates 
that  he  was  toiling  over 
the  black  sandy  prairie, 
one  of  the  hottest  days  of 
their  hot  but  short  sum- 
mer, when  to  his  joy  he 
came  upon  a  dirt-roofed 
"  log-house  with  the  word 
ICE  in  prominent  letters 
on  the  right  side  of  the 
door.  Drawing  near  with 
thirsty  haste  he  saw  on  the 
left  side,  in  smaller,  dim- 
mer letters  the  word 
POSTOFF.  A  Russian  or  Swedish  name,  he  thought,  and  called  for 
ice-water.  The  woman,  ignorant  of  English,  handed  him  a  bundle  of 
letters  with  instructions,  in  pantomime,  to  pick  out  what  belonged  t< 
him !  He  made  out  after  a  lengthy  discussion  wi^h  the  woman  that  the 
two  signs  were  to  be  read  together,  and  meant  POST-OFFICE. 

I  have  sufficiently  described  the  climate  of  our  new  North-west; 
it  is  severe  but  healthful.  There  has  been  a  deal  of  miscella- 
neous lying  on  this  subject.  Storms  of  fifty  hours'  duration 
3,re  not  uncommon  even  in  Nebraska ;  and  at  Cheyenne  I  have  ex- 
perienced weather  cold  enough  to  freeze  the  most  hardy  animals  if  un- 
sheltered. Five  hundred  miles  south  of  the  Northern  Pacific  I  have 
seen  cattle  frozen  stiff  in  their  tracks,  horses  left  in  the  spring  with 
only  the  stump  of  a  tail,  birds  fallen  dead  from  the  air  in  cold  wind 
storms,  Indians  without  nose  enough  left  to  blow  after  a  winter's  jour- 
ney, and  buffalo  by  tens  of  thousands  literally  frozen  to  death  on  the 
-plains.  But  settlers  can  provide  against  storms  and  cold;  experience 
shows  that  man  comes  to  perfection  in  such  climates,  and  the  old  resi- 
dent can  truthfully  say, 

"Man  is  the  noblest  growth  our  realms  supply; 
And  souls  are  ripened  in  our  Northern  sky." 


DALLES  OF  ST.  LOUIS  RIVER. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE   WAY   TO   OREGON. 

BROWN  October  found  me  again  rolling  through  Iowa,  in  the 
palace  cars  of  the  Burlington  and  Missouri  River  Railroad,  on  my 
way  to  Oregon,  after  a  brief  visit  to  the  States.  The  four  years  and 
a  half  since  I  crossed  the  State  on  foot  had  added  three  hundred  thou- 
sand to  its  population,  and  a  thousand  miles  to  its  working  railroads. 
And  still  there  is  room.  The  State  still  has  vacant  land  enough  for 
two  million  farmers. 

Westward  from  Omaha  there  had  also  been  great  changes.  In  1868 
we  ran  out  into  open  prairie  soon  after  leaving  Fremont ;  now  there  is 
a  nearly  continuous  line  of  farms  on  both  sides  of  the  railroad  as  far  as 
Loup  Fork.  Beyond,  cattle  ranches  multiply,  and  but  a  few  years  will 
elapse  till  all  this  section  of  the  high  plains  will  be  utilized  by  stock- 
growers.  It  is  claimed  that  as  ranches  increase  and  farms  are  opened 
the  climate  changes,  grows  more  moist,  and  thus  carries  the  border  of 
fertile  land  farther  west;  but,  on  this  point,  I  will  suspend  judgment. 
My  fourteenth  trip  over  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  was  more  pleasant 
than  any  previous  one.  The  brown  plains  east  of  the  mountains  were 
just  as  brown,  the  red  hills  and  alkali  deserts  of  Wyoming  quite  as 
monotonous ;  but  the  sublime  scenery  of  Echo  and  Weber  Cafions  was 
glorified  by  the  rich  hues  of  autumn,  and  over  all  the  gray-brown 
landscape  of  the  plains,  hung  the  soft  haze  of  what  would  be  Indian 
summer  at  the  East. 

In  Utah  I  found  Saint  and  Gentile  in  their  normal  condition  of 
attack  and  defense.  First  one  side  got  a  blow  ahead,  and  then  the 
other,  like  a  pair  of  badly-matched  oxen ;  or,  as  we  used  to  say  in 
Indiana :  "  Like  a  half-sled  on  ice."  It  had  grown  monotonous,  and, 
after  a  few  days'  rest  in  Salt  Lake  and  Corinne,  I  took  passage  in  one 
of  the  new  silver  palace  cars  of  the  Central  Pacific.  In  them  travel  is 
a  luxury ;  one  eats,  drinks,  smokes,  sleeps,  reads,  or  writes  at  the  rate 
of  twenty  miles  an  hour;  free  to  look  at  the  scenery  where  it  deserves 
it,  and  with  abundant  enjoyment  indoors  where  it  does  not.  Novem- 
ber 1st  we  found  the  Nevada  Desert  very  bleak,  and  the  Sierras  fast 
being  covered  with  snow.  Between  Truckee  and  Cape  Horn  the  road 

(390) 


THE    WAY  TO  OREGON. 


391 


is  protected  by  forty  miles  of  snow-sheds,  the  same  of  which  the 
British  traveler  complained— " Blarsted  long  depot;  longest  I  ever 
saw ! "  They  continue  down  the  western  slope  to  an  elevation  of  only 
4,500  feet  above  the  sea,  where  there  is  no  danger  of  a  blockade ;  and 
cost  a  million  and  a  half.  No  snow  can  fall  sufficient  to  block  the 
road,  as  they  are 
built  against  the 
cliffs  with  such  a 
slope  as  to  shed 
the  snow  into  the 
deep  valleys. 

At  an  elevation 
of  3,000  feet,  we 
were  out  of  the  re- 
gion of  snow,  and 
soon  after  among 
the  brilliant  leaves 
and  yellow  grass 
which  mark  the 
autumn  scenery  of 
the  Pacific  Coast. 
Only  two  light 
showers  have  fall- 
en ;  the  stimulating 
air  and  cloudless  sky  show  that  the  rainy  season  has  not  fairly  set  in. 
At  Sacramento  I  find  great  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  better  route 
to  Oregon,  by  land  or  water,  by  the  weariness  of  stage-coach  pounding, 
or  the  pains  and  perils  of  sea-sickness.  In  order  to  give  an  unbiased 
opinion,  I  decided  to  go  by  land  and  return  by  sea.  Through  tickets 
from  Sacramento  to  Portland,  by  land,  can  be  had  for  forty-five  dol- 
lars ;  by  sea,  for  ten  dollars  less.  The  railroad  terminus  was  then  at 
Reading,  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  from  Sacramento;  thence 
one  must  stage  it  two  hundred  and  eighty  miles  to  the  southern  ter- 
minus of  the  Oregon  Railroad.  The  autumn  rains  came  on  in  due 
order,  and,  as  our  train  moved  up  the  Sacramento  River,  the  summer- 
dried  grass  was  taking  on  a  velvety  brown,  with  rare  patches  of  faint 
green.  Northward,  signs  of  fertility  increased ;  and,  at  Chico,  the 
face  of  nature  was  so  beautiful,  that  I  halted  for  a  day. 

Here  General  John  Bidwell  has  a  ranche  of  some  20,000  acres,  one 
of  the  finest  in  California.  The  plains  of  the  Sacramento  have  a  vary- 
ing width  of  from  twenty-five  to  fifty  miles,  between  the  foot-hills  of 


BLUE  CASON— SIERRA  NEVADA. 


392  WESTERN    WILDS. 

the  Sierra  and  Coast  Range ;  and  his  ranche  occupies  the  richest  por- 
tion of  this  strip.  He  is  a  pioneer  of  the  pioneers,  'having  come  to 
California  in  1846,  two  years  before  the  discovery  of  gold.  The  same 
year  came  Governor  Boggs  and  party,  from  Missouri ;  Edwin  M.  Bry- 
ant, first  American  alcalde  of  San  Francisco,  and  the  unfortunate  Don- 
ner  party,  whose  sufferings  and  fate  have  laid  the  foundation  for  many 
a  thrilling  romance.  At  least  five  thousand  Americans  had  crossed 
the  plains  and  settled  in  California  before  the  "great  rush"  of  1849. 
They  all  engaged  in  cattle-raising,  the  sole  business  of  the  native 
Mexicans;  for,  even  as  late  as  1850,  few  people  believed  that  these 
dry  plains  would  admit  of  regular  farming.  A  few  of  them  got  pos- 
session of  old  Mexican  grants,  the  titles  to  which  were  afterwards  con- 
firmed by  treaty,  and  have  since  been  sustained  by  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States.  Hence  that  oppressive  land  monopoly,  which  is' 
now  the  worst  hinderance  to  the  development  of  California. 

On  General  Bidwell's  ranche  are  grown  all  the  roots  and  grains  of 
the  temperate  zones ;  besides  fifty  varieties  of  fruit,  from  the  little 
black  grape  of  the  North  to  the  fig  of  the  tropics.  He  had  already 
made  the  manufacture  of  raisins  a  success,  and  wine  can  be  produced 
almost  as  cheaply  as  cider  in  Ohio.  I  find  all  the  wines  of  California 
very  agreeable  to  the  taste,  and  most  of  them  healthful.  But  the  old 
resident  seldom  drinks  wine.  At  every  hotel  the  salutation  in  cool 
weather  is,  "  Walk  right  up  to  the  bar — warm  you  up  for  four  bits,  and 
heat  you  red  hot  for  a  dollar."  This  is  a  "  survival "  of  the  tastes 
of  early  settlers,  who  worked  hard  with  pick  and  shovel,  lived  on 
bread,  beef,  pork,  and  beans,  and  did  not  taste  milk,  wine,  or  fresh 
vegetables  for  years  together. 

As  we  walked  around  the  grounds  adjacent  to  the  Bidwell  mansion, 
we  saw  oranges,  olives,  and  pomegranates  growing  luxuriantly,  while 
the  borders  were  a  brilliant  maze  of  white  and  red,  diversified  by  the 
branching  palm,  pampas  grass  ten  feet  high,  with  beautiful  white 
plumes,  and  the  delicate  tints  of  the  giant  oleander.  Workmen  were 
busy  covering  the  young  orange  trees,  which  must  be  shielded  from 
the  coldest  winds  during  the  first  three  or  four  years,  but  on  the  full- 
grown  trees  the  growing  oranges  were  nearly  of  full  size,  the  green 
rind  beginning  to  change  to  a  pale  yellow.  And  yet,  fifteen  hundred 
miles  straight  east  of  this,  at  my  old  home,  snow  is  fast  covering  the 
fields,  and  no  green-growing  plant  will  delight  the  eye  for  months  to 
come. 

At  Reading,  I  tarried  again,  making  pleasant  excursions  among  the 
surrounding  hills  and  valleys,  the  most  pleasant  to  Shasta  City. 


THE    WAY  TO   OREGON.  393 

This  region  was  the  range  of  the  poet  Joaquin  Miller,  during  the 
wild  days  in  which  he  absorbed  poetry  from  free  nature,  and  found 
inspiration  in  the  companionship  of  Shasta  squaws.  The  county  rec- 
ords contain  papers  of  strange  import  as  to  his  reputation.  The  worst 
accusation  against  him  is  of  stealing  a  horse ;  but  his  friends  maintain 
that  the  owner  of  the  horse  owed  Miller  a  debt  which  the  latter 
could  not  collect,  and  therefore  levied  on  the  property  in  a  somewhat 
irregular  way.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  grand  jury  at  Shasta  found  a 
bill  of  indictment  against  him;  he  was  in  jail  for  some  time,  then 
broke  out  and  fled  to  Oregon.  Joaquin's  native  wife  was  of  the  Pitt 
River  band  of  Diggers,  and  she  now  lives  near  there  with  an  old 
mountaineer  named  Brock.  This  man  and  Miller  were  crack  shots, 
and  supplied  themselves  and  brown  families  plentifully  with  game, 
living  in  all  other  respects  as  the  Indians  do.  The  poetry  in  Joaquin 
(whose  real  name,  by  the  way,  is  John  Heiner  Miller)  worked  out  in 
very  odd  ways  for  some  years.  The  most  charitable  opinion  in 
Shasta  is,  that  he  was  then  slightly  "  cracked,"  with  a  crazy  affectation 
to  imitate  the  heroes  of  Spanish  romance.  His  name  was  adopted 
from  that  of  Joaquin  Murietta,  a  noted  outlaw,  who  was  long  the 
terror  of  the  Joaquin  River  region.  He  was  of  the  "  dashing,  chival- 
rous" Claude  Duval  style  of  bandits,  spending  his  gains  freely  among 
the  Mexican  senoritas  ;  and  the  character  fascinated  Miller. 

From  what  I  saw  of  the  Shasta  and  Pitt  River  squaws,  I  should 
say  a  man  must  needs  be  very  crazy  to  live  with  one  of  them.  The 
sight  or  smell  of  most  of  them  would  turn  the  stomach  of  any  other 
than  a  poet.  Their  chief  luxury  is  dried  and  tainted  salmon.  White 
men  not  only  learn  to  eat  it,  but  are  said  to  like  it  even  more  tainted 
than  do  the  Indians.  Many  old  mountaineers  are  scattered  through 
these  hills,  each  living  with  a  squaw;  and  it  is  common  testimony  that 
after  a  white  man  has  lived  with  a  squaw  some  years,  he  would  not 
leave  her  for  the  best  white  woman  in  the  country.  They  learn  to  do 
housework  after  a  fashion,  and  on  gala  days  rig  out  in  hoops  and 
waterfalls  of  most  fantastic  pattern.  But  they  boil  or  roast  the  car- 
casses of  their  dead  relatives ;  mix  the  grease  with  tar,  and  mat  it  on 
their  heads  and  necks,  making  a  sort  of  helmet,  with  only  the  eyes 
and  mouth  free  ;  then  for  seven  weeks  they  howl  on  the  hill-tops  every 
morning  and  evening  to  scare  away  the  evil  spirits.  I  saw  one  of 
these  "in  mourning,"  and  am  convinced  that  if  she  don't  scare  the 
devil  away,  he  must  be  a  spirit  of  some  nerve.  A  white  man  dis- 
posed to  Indian  life,  can  adopt  all  their  customs  in  six  months,  while 
an  Indian  can  not  adopt  ours  in  fifty  years.  Arithmetically  speaking, 


394 


WESTERN    WILDS. 


it  is  a  hundred  times  as  easy  for  a  white  man  to  go  wild  as  for  an 
Indian   to   become  really  civilized,     We    left   Reading    by   stage  at 

one    o'clock    in    the    morning,    seven 
men   in  a    little  coach,  which   carried 
also  seventeen  hundred  pounds  of  de- 
layed mail.     On  top,  rear,  and  "  boot," 
it   was    piled  as    long  as  it   could  be 
strapped  fast,  and  half  the  inside  was 
filled  with  it.     The  passes  ahead  were 
fast  filling  with  snow,  and  delayed  mail 
and  passengers  were  scattered  at  every 
point  along  the  route.     At  daylight  we 
crossed    Pitt  River,  where  the  valley 
of  the  Sacramento  may  be  said  to  end, 
H   as   the    spurs  of  the  Sierras   put   out 
p   westward  toward  the  Coast  Range,  and, 
§    in  mining  parlance,  "pinch  in"  upon 
|    the  plain.      Pitt  River    is    really  the 
g   Upper    Sacramento,  being  the  largest 
B   of  the  confluent  streams,  and  preserv- 
h   ing   a  general  course  south-westward, 
PH   after  emerging   from    the    mountains. 
£   Along    its    right   bluff,  we    preserved 
H   a    general  north-east  course   all  day. 
<    Again  and  again  we  thought  we  had 
'   left  it,   as   the  coach    turned    directly 
2   away    and    labored    up    mountainous 
«   passes,  and  along  frightful  "  dugways  " 
8   for  miles,  to  an  elevation  of  hundreds 
of  feet    above  the    stream;    then    we 
would    turn    to  the   right,   and   come 
thundering  down  a  long  rocky  grade 
for  two  or  three  miles  to  the  water's 
edge  again.      And  every  time  we  ap- 
peared to  be  coming  back  to  the  same 
place;   there  were  the  same  timbered 
hills  and   rocky    bluffs,  perpendicular 
on  one  side   of  the  stream  and  sloping 
on  the  other;  the  same  immense  gray 
bowlders,  rocky  islands  and  towers  in 
the    bed    of    the    stream,    and     the    same    white     foaming    rapids. 


THE    WAY  TO   OREGON.  395 

For  fifty  miles  the  river  is  a  series  of  cascades;  and  though, 
through  our  ups  and  downs,  we  but  kept  even  with  the  stream, 
we  must  have  been  gaining  rapidly  in  general  elevation.  The 
sun  rose  clear,  and  the  bright  day  and  sublime  scenery  made  us 
forget  the  fatigues  of  the  way.  The  immense  timber  through  which 
this  road  runs  is  a  constant  astonishment  to  the  traveler.  For  two 
hundred  miles,  broken  only  by  two  or  three  open  spaces,  stretches  a 
vast  forest  of  firs  and  pines  of  every  diameter,  from  one  to  ten  feet. 
Southward  the  big  trees  grow  more  numerous,  till  they  culminate  in 
the  Calaveras  Grove  and  the  thirty -two-feet  stump,  on  which  there 
is  room  for  a  dancing  party,  with  musicians  and  spectators.  Here  is 
inexhaustible  wealth  in  lumber.  The  fir  is  harder  to  work  than  the 
pine,  but  more  durable.  With  good  facilities  for  shipping,  every  acre 
of  this  forest  would  be  worth  two  hundred  dollars. 

Near  night  we  left  the  river,  and  toiled  slowly  up-hill  for  two  hours 
to  a  mountain  plateau.  To  our  right  was  Mount  Shasta,  14,400  feet 
high,  a  scene  of  indescribable  beauty  in  the  cold,  clear  moonlight. 
The  lower  portion  looked  like  polished  marble,  shading  off  by  degrees 
to  the  bright  green  of  the  pine-  forests  on  the  foot-hills;  the  summit, 
covered  nearly  all  the  year  with  snow  and  ice,  shone  a  monument  of 
dazzling  whiteness.  But  sentiment  was  soon  overpowered  by  sense,  as 
the  drivers  had  lost  time,  and  now  took  advantage  of  the  down-grade; 
the  coach  bumped  over  great  bowlders,  throwing  us  against  the  roof 
and  back  against  the  seats  till  phrenological  development  went  on  at 
both  ends  with  uncomfortable  rapidity.  Lean  men  can  not  endure 
coaching  like  plump  ones;  and  if  Darwinism  be  true,  in  my  many 
years  of  travel  I  should  have  "  developed "  a  series  of  gristle-pads. 
Our  present  anatomy  is  all  very  well  for  home  life  in  a  level  country; 
for  mountaineering  I  could  suggest  an  improvement :  a  cast-iron  back- 
bone with  a  hinge  in  it,  terminating  below  in  a  sole-leather  copper- 
lined  flap. 

At  Yreka  I  had  to  stop  and  rest  between  stages ;  and,  after  nine 
hours'  sleep,  still  felt  as  if  I  had  been  pounded  all  over  with  a  clap- 
board. Yreka  has  the  coldest  climate  of  any  city  in  California,  and  a 
location  of  wonderful  beauty.  From  the  town  a  gently  undulating 
valley  extends  in  every  direction,  rising  by  a  succession  of  timbered 
foot-hills  to  the  lofty  mountains,  whose  notched  and  pointed  summits, 
now  dazzling  white  with  snow,  seem  to  join  the  blue  heavens  or  lose 
themselves  in  clouds.  But  it  is  only  on  the  points  of  the  mountains 
that  any  mist  can  be  seen ;  above  us  the  sky  is  cloudless,  and  the  cool 
air  is  exhilarating  as  some  ethereal  gas.  A  few  miles  eastward  was  the 


396 


WESTERN    WILDS. 


home  of  the  Modocs,  and  soon  after  my  visit  this  region  became  no 
torious  for  that  tempest-in-a-teapot,  the  "  Modoc  War."     These  are 
the  gentle  savages  with  whom  Walk-in  Miller  claims  to  have  affiliated, 
at  mention  of  which  claim  the  old  pioneers  smile  meaningly,  with  a 
closure  of  the  left  optic. 

Wyeka  was  the  original  Indian  name ;  for  no  Indian  or  Chinaman 
can  pronounce  the  letter  r.     There  is  a  tradition  that  a  Dutch  baker 

painted  the 
present 
name  on 
his  sign  by 
mistake, 
and  it  was 
noted  that 

" YREK A 

BAKERY" 
spelt  the 
same  both 
ways,  which 
struck  the 
citizens  as 
such  a  hap- 
py combi- 
nation that 
the  name 
was  retain- 
ed by  gen- 
era 1  con- 
sent. Sim- 
ilarly, Sis- 
kiyou,name 
of the  coun- 
ty first  or- 
ganized, resulted  from  the  attempts  of  miners  to  pronounce  the  French 
Six  Cailloux  ("  six  bowlders  "),  as  the  district  was  called,  from  six  im- 
mense rocks  in  the  river.  As  most  of  the  early  American  settlers 
learned  French  and  Indian  by  the  aid  of  "sleeping  dictionaries,"  the 
pronunciation  may  not  be  strictly  academic.  Like  all  old  mining 
counties,  this  is  heavily  taxed.  An  unsettled  population  of  twenty 
thousand  often  organized  a  California  county,  voted  magnificent  public 
works,  and  issued  bonds  to  complete  them ;  in  no  long  time  the  miners 


VIEW  IN  THE  MODOC  COUNTRY. 


THE    WAY  TO   OREGON.  397 

mostly  left,  and  a  smaller  community  of  farmers,  graziers  and  vine- 
growers  have  to  pay  the  debt  and  run  the  county. 

Early  next  morning  we  took  the  coach  again,  and  soon  after  day- 
light crossed  the  Klamath  River  by  a  "  swing-ferry."  The  valley 
amounts  to  but  little,  as  the  river  runs  between  rugged  hills  through 
most  of  its  course ;  but  on  its  headwaters  is  the  greatest  game  district 
in  the  West,  perhaps  in  the  world.  All  varieties  of  game  abound,  and 
the  cool  waters  of  Klamath  Lake  are  alive  with  trout.  Only  its  re- 
mote and  inaccessible  position  prevents  its  being  a  place  of  great  re- 
sort. Soon  after  we  enter  Oregon,  and  the  first  impression  is  that  the 
State  is  covered  by  one  immense  and  gloomy  forest.  In  places  the 
very  daylight  seemed  to  vanish  into  a  mild  twilight,  and  in  the  few 
"clearings"  we  passed  through,  the  sunshine  was  novel  and  enjoyable. 
After  noon  the  country  began  to  show  signs  of  improvement ;  settlers' 
cabins  became  numerous,  and,  after  running  down  a  narrow  canon,  we 
came  out  into  the  beautiful  valley  of  Rogue  River.  Here  is  said 
to  be  the  finest  climate  in  Oregon,  and  to  wearied  passengers  just 
over  the  mountains  the  sight  was  a  revelation  of  beauty.  Where  we 
enter,  the  valley  is  no  more  than  two  miles  wide,  but  as  we  go  down 
it  widens  gradually  to  fifteen  or  twenty,  while  on  every  hand  appear 
fine  farms,  thrifty  orchards,  great  piles  of  red  and  yellow  apples  of 
wondrous  size,  barns  full  of  wheat,  and  fine  stock,  and  we  feel  with 
delight  that  we  are  out  of  the  mountains  and  "  in  the  settlements." 
Though  far  retired  from  the  road,  the  mountains  still  appear  rugged 
and  lofty,  sending  out  a  succession  of  rocky  spurs — one  every  two  or 
three  miles — and  between  these,  far  back  into  the  hills,  extend  most 
beautiful  coves.  The  air  was  mild,  the  roads  firm  and  smooth,  and 
the  coach  rolled  along  with  just  enough  of  motion  to  give  variety — 
and  appetite. 

Plows  were  running  in  the  fields,  "breaking  summer  fallow  for 
spring  wheat,"  said  the  natives ;  and  the  farm  work  showed  that  no 
freeze  was  to  be  apprehended  for  some  time.  Another  night's  travel 
on  the  mountains,  and  daylight  came  slowly  upon  us  in  the  dense 
woods  lying  between  Cow  Creek  and  the  South  Umpqua.  The  sun's 
rays  did  not  reach  us  through  the  dense  and  leafy  mass  above  till 
nearly  noon,  and  soon  after  we  entered  on  a  timbered  cafion  down 
which  we  bumped  and  thumped  for  four  hours,  making  but  fifteen 
miles.  The  coach  alone  would  have  been  too  heavy  a  load  for  the 
four  horses,  every  one  of  which  filled  Isaiah's  description  of  the 
natural  man:  their  whole  heads  were  sick  and  their  whole  hearts 


398  WESTERN  WILDS. 

faint ;  and  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the  foot  they  were 
wounds  and  bruises  and  putrefying  sores. 

At  Canonville  we  ran  out  into  the  Umpqua  Valley,  at  a  point 
where  the  river  comes  in  from  the  east  and  turns  due  north.  After 
crossing  we  traveled  the  rest  of  the  day  down  the  east  bank.  Many 
clear  and  pretty  streams  dash  down  from  the  Cascade  Range,  cross 
our'  road  and  empty  into  the  Umpqua.  The  range  bends  in  towards 
the  coast,  and  hence  none  of  these  valleys  are  as  wide  as  that  of  the 
Sacramento.  Reaching  Roseburgh  at  dark,  we  found  that  the  Oregon 
and  California  Railroad  had  just  been  completed  to  that  point,  saving 
us  eighteen  miles  of  the  staging  we  had  expected.  Next  day  was 
Sunday,  and  I  can  not  recall  a  more  pleasant  Sabbath  than  this,  which 
we  spent  in  a  slow  ride  down  to  Portland.  Roseburgh  is  south  of  the 
" divide"  and  on  the  slope  towards  the  Klamath;  but  the  intermediate 
ridges  are  not  so  high  as  those  behind  us,  and  far  more  pleasant  as  seen 
from  the  inside  of  a  car.  Forty  miles  brought  us  fairly  into  the  Willa- 
mette Valley,  the  largest  body  of  good  land  in  Oregon,  containing 
nearly  six  thousand  square  miles.  The  soil  is  wonderful,  being  in  many 
places  from  six  to  thirty  feet  in  depth.  The  high  Cascade  Range  shuts 
off  all  hard  winter  storms ;  the  lower  Coast  Range  on  the  west  only  ad- 
mits the  mildest  airs  of  the  Pacific ;  the  summers  never  get  so  dry  or  hot 
as  in  California ;  all  the  rains  are  gentle,  and  destructive  storms  and 
freshets  are  unknown.  The  surprisingly  slow  development  of  such  a 
region  can  only  be  accounted  for  by  the  method  of  settlement,  the  first 
comers  getting  title  to  nearly  all  the  land.  The  new  settlers  eagerly 
seize  on  every  chance  for  improvement,  and  are  doing  considerable ; 
but  it  is  complained  that  these  old  fellows  "  hold  on  to  the  land  like 
burrs,  and  die  mighty  slow."  And  from  longer  experience  with  the 
"first  families,"  I  am  driven  to  the  painful  conclusion,  that  about 
a  hundred  first-class  funerals  would  prove  of  great  advantage  to 
Oregon. 

In  the  lower  portions  of  the  valley  the  road  traverses  what  are 
called  "Beaver  Lands."  The  theory  of  their  origin  is  that  the 
beavers,  by  damming  up  the  shallow  creeks  and  building  their  houses 
in  them,  caused  the  beds  and  adjacent  low  lands  to  overflow  and  fill 
with  accumulations  of  earthy  matter  and  decayed  vegetable  deposits. 
This  must  have  been  the  work  of  many  centuries,  and  has  left  'a  soil 
which  only  grows  more  fertile  by  cultivation.  But  these  lands  are 
found  nowhere  but  in  the  Willamette  Valley,  and  do  not  altogether 
exceed  twenty  thousand  acres. 

I  reached  Portland  at  sunset  of  a  beautiful  sabbath  evening — not  at 


THE    WAY  TO  OREGON.  399 

all  suggestive  of  the  fog  and  rain  which  are  generally  attributed  to 
this  climate.  For  two  days  the  weather  was  delightful,  though  every- 
body spoke  of  it  as  the  coldest  they  had  ever  experienced.  The  wind 
was  from  the  north-west,  very  gentle,  the  sky  clear,  and  ice  half  an 
inch  thick  formed  on  the  gutters — a  rare  thing  in  Portland.  The 
third  evening  the  thermometer  rose  from  28°  to  38°,  and  next  morn- 
ing I  wondered  why  I  had  waked  and  was  so  restless  in  the  night. 
I  turned  over  suddenly,  and  an  old  shot  wound  in  the  knee  gave 
me  a  fearful  wrench.  Then  I  felt  something  like  ague  along  my 
backbone.  I  struck  a  match,  looked  at  my  watch,  and  it  was  after 
8  o'clock. 

Such  a  fog !  One  could  chew  it  up  and  spit  it  out.  With  a  sharp 
knife  it  might  be  cut  out  in  chunks  and  stored  for  dry  weather. 
They  say  the  winters  here  are  healthful.  It  must  be  for  differently 
constituted  lungs  from  mine.  It  don't  seem  to  me  like  breathing;  it 
is  rather  a  sort  of  pulmonic  swallowing.  Only  the  smoke  and  dust 
of  a  great  city  here  is  needed  to  give  Portland  occasional  fogs  fully  equal 
to  those  of  London.  This  fog  continued  till  noon,  then  broke  away, 
and  a  gentle  drizzle  finished  the  day.  Portlanders  all  agree  that  they 
have  the  finest  climate  in  the  world  in  summer,  and  part  of  the 
spring;  but  admit  that  it  is  rather  unpleasant  in  the  winter  or  rainy 
season.  From  November  till  March  every  wind  brings  rain,  unless  it 
be  from  the  north-west.  In  that  case  the  clouds  sail  away  over  the 
Cascade  Range,  the  mercury  falls  to  35°  or  below,  and  the  sky  is  clear 
for  a  brief  space.  But  let  the  mercury  rise  to  40°,  and  rain  comes 
again.  Sometimes  there  is  a  continuous  patter  for  six  weeks,  the\air 
being  chilly  and  penetrating.  The  summers  are  never  so  hot  and  dry 
as  in  California ;  the  hills  are  covered  with  timber,  and  every  thing 
grows  without  irrigation. 

One  week  sufficed  to  conclude  my  business  in  Oregon,  but  before 
leaving  a  few  general  notes  are  in  order.  Portland  is  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  Willamette  (pro.  Wil-fam-et),  twelve  miles  above  its 
mouth  and  near  the  head  of  tide-water.  But  the  Columbia  often  rises 
so  as  to  cause  backwater,  giving  the  Willamette  a  variation  of  thirty- 
two  feet.  Ocean  steamers  load  at  the  wharf,  and  the  place  has  direct 
water  communication  with  all  the  ports  of  the  world,  the  chief  exports 
being  wheat,  lumber,  beef  and  salmon.  All  the  older  portion  of  the 
city  is  very  beautifully  improved;  elegant  residences  abound,  with 
many  evidences  of  taste  and  wealth.  The  location  is  picturesque. 
The  Cascade  Range  is  only  occasionally  visible,  but  Mount  Hood 
rears  its  snowy  summit  sixty  miles  eastward,  and  looks  as  if  it  were  just 


400  WESTERN    WILDS. 

out  of  town.  Mount  Saint  Helens  is  sometimes  in  good  view,  though 
eighty  miles  to  the  north-east.  All  the  hills  around  the  city  are  cov- 
ered with  heavy  timber,  and  in  town  every  street  is  double  lined  with 
shade  trees. 

Of  the  25,000  people  in  Portland,  one-sixth  are  Chinamen.  They 
are  porters,  washer-men,  railroad  laborers,  cigar  makers,  and  artisans 
of  other  sorts,  with  an  occasional  member  of  the  higher  caste  engaged 
in  trade.  Sam  Poy  Lahong  has  seven  stores  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  his 
head-quarters  being  at  Portland.  I  made  his  acquaintance,  and  found 
him  a  gentleman  of  great  intelligence.  The  firm  of  Tung,  Duck, 
Chung  &  Co.,  charter  vessels  and  import  extensively  from  China,  as 
do  some  smaller  firms.  Other  foreigners  are  scarce ;  the  Jews  pre- 
dominate. Portland  is  almost  exclusively  an  American  city,  in  fact,  a 
Yankee  settlement;  though  most  of  the  people  in  the  country  are 
from  Missouri  and  other  South-western  States.  The  city  seems  to 
have  all  the  enterprise  which  the  State  at  large  lacks.  The  rural 
"web-foot,"  as  the  residents  are  called,  in  ironical  allusion  to  the 
climate,  is  sui  generis:  there  is  a  distinctively  Oregonian  look  about 
all  the  natives  and  old  residents  which  is  hard  to  describe.  Certainly 
they  are  not  an  enterprising  people.  They  drifted  in  here  all  along 
from  1835  to  1855,  and  some  of  them  at  an  even  earlier  period,  when 
many  western  Americans  came  to  the  Pacific  Coast  to  engage  in  cattle- 
raising — not  considering  the  country  fit  for  much  else.  They  left 
Missouri  and  Illinois — most  of  them — because  those  States  were  even 
then  "too  crowded"  for  them,  and  they  wanted  to  get  away  where 
"  they  was  plenty  o'  range  and  plenty  o'  game,"  and  have  a  good,  easy 
time.  With  one  team  to  each  family  (time  being  no  object  to  such 
people)  it  costs  them  nothing  to  move ;  and  the  peculiar  land  laws 
applied  to  Oregon  gave  them  every  advantage,  and  have  been  a  serious 
hinderance  to  settlement  ever  since.  Each  single  male  settler  could 
acquire  title  to  three  hundred  and  twenty  acres,  and  each  married  man 
to  six  hundred  and  forty ;  there  were  besides  some  inducements  to 
families,  so  that  the  birth  of  a  child  was  a  pecuniary  advantage  to  the 
parents.  The  result  was  that  hundreds  of  girls  of  eleven,  twelve  and 
thirteen  years  of  age  were  married ;  with  the  further  result,  that  all 
this  fine  land  is  owned  in  vast  bodies  by  these  old  families,  many  of 
whom  will  neither  sell,  improve,  nor  hire  any  one  else  to  improve. 
They  acknowledge  their  own  laziness,  and  talk  about  it  so  good- 
humoredly  that  one  is  compelled  to  sympathize  with  them. 

The  steamer  on  which  I  had  engaged  passage  down  the  coast  was 
to  start  at  dark,  but  going  on  board  I  was  informed  that  we  should 


THE   WAY  TO  OREGON.  401 

delay  till  next  day,  "  to  get  high  tide  over  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia."  So  my  friends  made  an  evening  of  it  to  see  me  off  prop- 
erly, and  gave  me  a  world  of  good  advice  about  sea-sickness.  Having 
properly  prepared  my  nerves,  and  emptied  fourteen  bottles  of  "  Bass," 
they  saw  me  aboard,  with  the  parting  words  :  "  Good-bye,  Jonah ;  and 
when  you  begin  to  heave,  think  of  us!  "  An  "  old  salt"  then  gave  me 
his  advice:  "Take  half  a  dozen  limes  in  your  pocket,  eat  one  when- 
ever you  begin  to  feel  giddy,  wrap  up  well  and  walk  about,  st'xjk  to 
the  deck  with  me,  and  I'll  insure  you."  This  I  did,  and  found  it  the 
best  plan. 

At  daylight,  the  bang  of  a  six-pounder  on  the  bow  aroused  me  from 
dreams  of  shipwreck,  and  pretty  soon  the  "  hoh-he-hoh "  of  the  sea- 
men's chorus,  and  the  rattle  of  lines  and  jingle  of  bells  announced 
that  we  were  off.  The  easy  motion  of  the  vessel  lulled  me  to  another 
nap  of  an  hour,  from  which  I  awoke  to  find  that  we  were  dead  still — 
neither  tied  nor  anchored,  but  swinging  with  the  current,  and  buried  in 
a  fog,  so  dense  that  I  had  to  feel  my  way  along  the  berths  to  the  cabin 
door.  We  were  near  the  mouth  of  the  Willamette,  and  were  to  stay 
there  any  time  from  one  to  twenty-four  hours.  Hour  by  hour  the  fog 
slowly  lifted,  drizzle  and  mist  taking  its  place,  and  chilling  one  to  the 
very  bones.  The  cabin  passengers  crowded  around  the  stoves,  while 
the  Chinese  and  other  steerage  passengers  walked  the  deck,  or  .stood 
around  the  smoke-stacks  for  warmth ;  the  melancholy  "  Johns,"  with 
glazed  caps  and  black  pig-tails,  looking  like  a  lot  of  half-drowned 
crows.  About  2  P.  M.,  blue  spots  began  to  appear,  bright  rays  broke 
through  the  gloom,  a  light  wind  was  felt  from  the  north-west,  and 
soon  the  fog  was  sailing  away  in  fleecy  clouds  toward  the  Cascade 
Range. 

We  were  soon  out  in  the  Columbia,  and  at  once  surrounded  by  large 
flocks  of  ducks  and  wild  geese,  with  an  occasional  gull  or  Walloon. 
At  dark  we  reached  the  principal  salmon  fisheries,  stopped  for  the 
night,  and  took  on  a  hundred  tons  of  canned  salmon — "  No  put  up  at 
all,"  the  clerk  said.  The  amphibious  race  who  follow  the  calling  of 
fishermen  on  the  lower  Columbia,  know  all  about  salmon  and  next  to 
nothing  of  any  thing  else.  Three  hours  persistent  questioning  among 
them  developed  these  facts.  The  salmon  vary  in  weight  from  five  to 
thirty  pounds,  twelve  being  a  fair  average.  When  they  enter  the 
Columbia  from  the  ocean,  their  meat  is  of  a  bright  red  color;  every 
mile  they  go  up  stream  they  get  poorer,  and  their  meat  whiter.  In 
the  Willamette  it  is  a  pale  vermillion,  further  up  almost  white  ;  but 
no  Oregonian  will  eat  of  salmon  taken  above  the  mouth  of  the  Willa- 
2G 


402 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


mette.  They  continue  up  stream  as  far  as  possible,  and  have  been 
seen  twelve  hundred  miles  from  the  ocean.  On  all  the  rapids  they  are 
found  "bucking  against  the  stream;"  where  only  the  most  daring 
boatmen  venture,  they  glide  swiftly  up  over  the  rocks;  and  where 
man  descends  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  the  graceful  salmon  is  seen  shin- 
ing through  the  foaming  water.  Having  reached  the  highest  attaina- 


KAPIDS  ON  THE  UPPER  COLUMBIA. 


ble  point,  on  whatever  stream  they  turn  into,  they  spawn  among  the 
gravel  and  on  the  rocks,  where  the  water  is  but  two  or  three  inches 
deep.  Then  they  die  by  thousands,  and  masses  of  dead  salmon  are 
cast  ashors,  or  found  floating  in  the  eddies.  It  was  thought  they  all 
died ;  but  the  fishermen  say  it  is  now  known  that  many  of  the  old 
ones  survive  to  return  to  the  ocean,  though  they  float  sluggishly  with 
the  current,  keeping  very  low  in  the  water.  Next  year  the  young 
ones  go  out  to  the  ocean  in  vast  schools,  and  occasionally  one  of  them 
is  caught  with  a  hook,  but  not  often.  The  meat  of  the  salmon  is 
poison  to  a  dog.  There  is  a  remarkable  difference  between  various 
localities.  At  places  on  Puget  Sound,  the  salmon  is  not  fit  to  eat ;  at 
others,  it  is  inferior,  but  still  palatable.  The  Columbia  takes  preced- 
ence of  all  points  on  the  coast. 

We  spent  three  hours  at  Astoria,  a  curious  old  town  strung  along 
under  the  wooded  hills,  and  a  party  of  us  walked  out  to  see  the  first 
house  built  in  Oregon — the  old  residence  of  Astor.  The  place  is  now 


THE  WAY  TO  OREGON.  403 

of  little  Importance  except  for  shipping  salmon.  The  call  to  a  late 
breakfast  showed  the  fifty  cabin  passengers  all  on  hand,  each  one  spec- 
ulating humorously  as  to  how  many  would  sit  down  to  the  next  meal ; 
for  we  could  already  see  the  white  foam  on  the  bar,  and  knew  that  a 
"  high  sea  was  running  outside."  The  Columbia  bar  was  long  the 
terror  of  navigators,  but  it  appears  to  have  been  such  only  through 
ignorance;  and,  since  proper  soundings  have  been  made,  no  more  ac- 
cidents have  occurred  in  the  last  twenty  years  than  at  the  mouths  of 
other  large  rivers.  We  passed  it  in  an  hour,  without  difficulty,  and 
soon  were  upon  the  "  heaving  ocean,"  of  which  we  read.  It  was  a 
rough  introduction.  The  heaviest  sea  encountered  on  the  voyage  was 
at  the  start.  One  minute  the  bow  appeared  to  be  rearing  up  to  square 
off  at  the  midday  sun,  and  the  next  to  get  down  and  root  for  something 
at  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  Bets  were  made  as  to  who  would  be  the 
"  first  to  fall,"  and  a  large  party  of  us  went  to  the  hurricane  deck  to 
stand  it  out.  "With  songs,  shouts,  and  laughter  we  danced  about  on 
unsteady  footing,  attempting  an  "  Ethiopian  walk-around "  on  the 
heaving  deck,  determined  to  fight  off  the  sickness  to  the  last  moment. 
Then  we  practiced  balancing  against  the  waves,  watching  the  water  in 
the  hollows  of  the  deck,  and  seizing  on  the  moment  when  it  started 
one  way  to  throw  ourselves  to  the  opposite.  While  enjoying  this  pas- 
time, a  lad  of  some  fifteen  years  suddenly  sank  to  the  deck,  then  rose 
and  emptied  his  stomach  at  one  vast  hfeave.  There  was  a  yell  of 
laughter  as  he  started  below,  but  in  a  minute  two  more  followed  suit. 
Then  they  fell  away  rapidly,  and  in  an  hour  only  five  of  us  remained. 
As  I  gazed  on  the  bow,  admiring  the  majestic  sweep  of  its  rise  and 
fall,  it  suddenly  appeared  to  stop,  then  stood  dead  still,  and  the  \vhole 
body  of  the  ocean  appeared  to  rise  and  fall  instead,  and  in  a  moment 
my  head  seemed  to  rise  and  fall  with  it,  leaving  the  bow  between  us 
quite  fixed.  I  had  been  warned  not  to  look  at  the  bow,  but  I  forgot 
it.  I  tried  in  vain  to  restore  the  natural  order,  but  the  illusion  had 
become  to  me  a  reality :  the  bow  was  still,  and  my  head  and  the  ocean 
alone  moved.  At  every  rise  my  neck  seemed  to  stretch  out  longer, 
my  head  get  farther  from  my  body,  and  my  stomach  to  rise  and  fall 
with  the  ocean.  Lunch  was  called,  and  I  went  below.  One  mouth- 
ful of  soup  I  swallowed,  but  felt  it  coming  back.  I  clapped  my  hand 
upon  my  mouth  and  rushed  to  my  berth,  badly  defeated.  Next  door 
to  me  was  a  family  of  four,  making  their  first  trip  away  from  Oregon. 
As  I  passed,  the  little  girl  and  boy  were  lying  in  the  lower  berth,  with 
their  heads  over  a  basin,  moaning  with  sickness;  the  young  mother 
lay  above,  pale  as  the  sheet,  and  unable  even  to  resist  the  motion  of 


404 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


the  vessel,  which  tossed  her  from  side  to  side;  and  the  husband  sat  by 
trying  to  cheer  them,  while  the  dark  bile  swelled  up  in  his  cheeks, 
and  his  eye  showed  the  composure  of  despair.  I  could  not  repress  a 
sickly  smile,  for  he  had  been  the  most  hilarious  of  our  party  on  deck. 
From  all  sides  came  a  mixed"  sound  of  curses,  groans,  and  regurgita- 


CAPE  MENDOCINO. 

tions.     My  sickness  lasted  three  hours;  then  came  a  delightful  calm, 
succeeded  by  a  long,  sweet  sleep. 

I  learned  a  new  fact,  to  me:  there  are  really  two  kinds  of  sea- 
sickness ;  one  begins  in  the  head,  and  the  other  in  the  stomach,  and 
a  man  may  have  either  or  both.  The  latter,  I  am  convinced,  is  simply 
a  reversal  of  the  peristaltic  motion  of  the  stomach  and  bowels.  In 
the  long  swells,  as  the  boat  rises,  one  feels  perfectly  delightful ;  the 
"insides"  settle  down,  down,  down,  and  are  at  rest.  But  as  the  boat 


THE  WA  Y  TO  OREGON.  405 

sinks  all  the  internal  viscera  rise — as  one  passenger  expressed  it, 
"  You  fall  away  from  your  grub  " — they  press  even  against  the  throat, 
producing  a  fearful  and  indescribable  nausea.  And  one  may  have  this 
kind  of  sea-sickness  without  being  a  particle  giddy.  But  the  other 
kind  begins  in  the  head :  it  is  the  result  of  the  eye  having  nothing 
fixed  or  solid  to  rest  upon.  Every  thing  one  looks  at  is  moving — the 
boat,  the  lamps,  the  waves  are  so  many  sources  of  irritation  to  the 
brain  and  optic  nerve.  Some  persons  get  sick  in  a  swing,  or  car;  but 
they  find  one  relief:  there  is  the  sure  and  firm  set  earth  to  come  back 
to.  But  on  a  vessel  every  thing  is  in  motion.  This  is  the  kind  of 
sickness  I  had;  and,  hence,  when  I  lay  down  and  shut  my  eyes,  it 
gradually  passed  away.  But  for  those  whose  sickness  begins  at  the 
stomach  there  is  no  such  remedy.  They  must  suffer  it  through. 

Next  morning  the  sea  was  calm,  the  boat  running  "  on  an  even 
keel,"  and  the  rest  of  our  voyage  to  San  Francisco  was  delightful. 
The  third  day  the  table  was  full  again ;  every  body  protested  they 
"had  not  been  very  sick;"  good  appetite  was  the  rule,  and  jollity 
reigned.  So  I  stick  to  my  original  advice :  Take  a  day's  sea-sickness 
on  the  way  to  Oregon  rather  than  go  by  stage.  The  second  night,  we 
saw  from  afar  the  glowing  summit  of  Point  Arena  Light-house — a 
sublime  sight  from  a  distance  on  the  ocean  ;  and  viewed  the  glories  of 
Cape  Mendecino  by  the  yellow  light  of  the  setting  sun.  Next  night 
we  passed  the  Golden  Gate,  and  anchored  at  the  San  Francisco  wharf; 
and,  at  daylight,  I  was  delighted  to  find  myself  once  more  on  terra 
firma. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

LAS  TEXAS   Y   LOS  TEJANOS. 

"  G.  T.  T."  Forty  years  ago  these  mysterious  letters  might  often 
be  seen  chalked  or  charcoaled  on  the  door  of  an  absconding  debtor 
in  the  Middle,  Southern  and  Western  States.  On  the  tax  returns  one 
occasionally  saw  them,  opposite  the  name  of  some  ne'er-do-well  who 
had  defrauded  the  State  and  other  creditors  by  departing  between  two 
days.  "Gone  to  Texas"  was  the  universal  verdict  in  such  cases;  and 
in  due  time  the  rural  wags  cut  it  down  to  the  initial  letters.  The 
State  had  a  hard  name.  As  all  who  left  their  country  for  their  coun- 
try's good  were  supposed  to  have  gone  to  Texas,  its  population  was 
thought  to  be  composed  mainly  of  refugees  from  debt  and  justice  ;  and 
its  society,  such  as  is  broadly  hinted  at  in  General  Sam  Houston's 
reported  farewell  to  his  young  wife:  "Madame,  you  may  go  to  hell, 
and  I'll  go  to  Texas." 

The  glories  of  San  Jacinto,  Goliad  and  the  Alamo,  the  bravery  of 
Texan  troops  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  the  able  representatives  the 
State  sent  to  Washington,  rapidly  raised  our  opinion  of  the  new  com- 
monwealth; but  its  development  continued  slow  till  after  the  war. 
Then  a  fresh  spirit  of  emigration  was  excited  in  the  Old  South,  which 
soon  spread  to  the  North  and  West,  and  within  seven  years  after  the 
peace,  Texas  was  said  to  be  receiving  immigrants  at  the  ra"te  of  four 
thousand  per  week.  On  this  south-westward  wave  I  was  again  borne 
along  in  the  early  part  of  1873,  for  every  body  was  curious  about  it, 
and  the  State  needed  a  pen-painter. 

One  may  now  ride  without  change  of  cars  from  St  Louis  to  Galves- 
ton,  1,009  miles;  and  from  all  points  east  to  St.  Louis.  It  was  pro- 
posed to  push  the  western  branch  of  the  Texas  Central  to  Camargo,  on 
the  Rio  Grande,  and  eventually  to  the  City  of  Mexico ;  and  grading 
was  in  rapid  progress  when  the  panic  of  1873  suddenly  stopped  it. 
Only  a  few  years,  however,  must  elapse  till  one  can  ride  by  rail  from 
New  York  to  the  Mexican  capital.  By  the  Missouri,  Kansas  &  Texas 
Road,  I  passed  leisurely  through  the  first  two  States,  and  late  in  a  cool 
April  day  entered  the  Indian  Territory.  Daylight  next  morning 
found  us  in  the  center  of  the  Choctaw  Nation,  and  still  sixty  miles 

(406) 


LAS    TEXAS   Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  407 

north  of  Red  River.  In  the  valleys  the  soil  appeared  very  rich,  on 
the  upland  rather  thin.  About  half  the  country  is  covered  by  timber, 
and  very  few  cultivated  farms  are  seen.  Occasionally  appears  a  cattle 
corral,  and  near  it  a  stylish  log-house  or  rude  cabin,  from  which 
"White  Choctaws"  peer  out  at  the  train,  with  an  air  of  lazy  admiration. 
In  the  heaviest  timber,  wild  turkeys  often  fly  near  us,  and  smaller 
game  are  quite  abundant,  while  on  the  high  prairies  large  herds  of 
horses  and  cattle  show  the  wealth  and  employment  of  the  Choctaws. 

Crossing  the  yellow  Red  River,  which  is  rather  narrow  at  this 
point,  we  enter  the  sovereign  State  of  Texas,  and  four  miles  further 
disembark  at  the  "city"  of  Denison.  A  regular  "norther "is  blow- 
ing, and  for  the  first  day  of  my  stay  an  overcoat  is  not  too  heavy. 
This  is  a  cosmopolitan  town.  About  half  its  citizens  are  from  the 
North,  half  from  the  South ;  a  third  or  more  are  foreigners,  the  rest 
from  every  State  in  the  Union.  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  often  a 
Northern  and  a  Southern  man  are  in  partnership,  and  that  the  clerks 
in  large  establishments  are  similarly  divided.  The  wants  of  com- 
merce demand  amnesty.  The  Alamo  Hotel,  where  I  stop,  deserves  a 
week's  study.  It  unites  the  characteristics  of  the  Yankee  hotel,  the 
foreign  hostelrie  and  the  Southern  "  public  house;"  among  its  guests 
are  the  swarthy  Southron,  the  darker  Mexican,  the  blonde  English- 
man, the  pale  Bostonian,  and  the  omnipresent  Jew,  whose  features  are 
the  same  from  Puget's  Sound  to  Key  West.  The  neighboring  region 
is  very  fertile,  the  climate  healthful,  and  if  the  State  develops  half  as 
fast  as  it  promises,  Denison  must  make  a  considerable  city. 

The  "  norther"  blew  all  day.  At  night  it  suddenly  ceased  ;  the  air 
grew  warm,  and  the  streets  of  Denison  were  thronged  by  hundreds  of 
loungers.  Let  us  walk,  listen  to  the  music  from  half  a  dozen  concert- 
saloons,  and  take  notes  of  the  denizens.  There  is  the  regular  railroad 
follower,  with  glazed  cap  or  slouched  hat,  dark  red  complexion,  red 
shirt  and  brawny  arm;  the  "sporting  gent"  of  faultless  exterior, 
whose  wide-awake  air  in  the  evening,  and  eye  with  dark  under-stain, 
indicate  wakeful  nights  and  sleep  by  day;  and  the  Yankee  merchant 
and  his  Southern  clerks,  the  usual  combination  here.  And  there  are 
the  rural  Texans  lounging  in  groups  of  four  or  five,  most  of  them 
dark,  gaunt,  and  grizzly ;  a  few  Mexicans,  who  have  come  with  cattle 
herds  all  the  way  from  San  Antonio,  and  numbers  of  white  "  bull- 
whackers,"  sunburnt,  healthy,  and  jolly,  carrying  with  them  con- 
stantly their  murderous  whips,  which  look  as  if  one  heavy  stroke  with 
them  would  flay  a  cow's  back.  All  are  good-humored  and  sociable. 
Their  language  is  the  horror  of  grammarians,  and  such  phrases  as 


408  WESTERN   WILDS. 

"  dun  gone,"  "  clean  clar  out,"  "  git  shet  of  it,"  are  elevated  to  the 
dignity  of  good  ordinary  speech.  About  ten  per  cent,  of  the  crowd 
are  negroes,  the  waiters  and  barbers  usually  light-colored,  sleek  and 
polite,  but  the  great  mass  black,  ragged,  and  offensive. 

"How's  the  haalth  on  Nohth  Fohk?"  asks  one  native  of  another. 
"  Pooty  fayh,"  is  the  reply ;  "  but  the  spiral  maginnis  tuck  a  good 
many  on  Main  Trinity  this  winter."  This  is  Texan  for  spinal  menin- 
gitis. Long  afterwards  I  asked  a  negro  in  South  Carolina  how  his 
people  stood  the  winter,  and  received  for  reply :  "  Pooty  fayh,  but  de 
menin-jeesus  tuck  lots  of  'em."  Similarly  the  motto,  Sic  Semper  Ty- 
rannis,  best  known  in  the  South  as  the  noted  exclamation  of  Wilkes 
Booth,  is  freely  translated  in  Texas,  "Six  serpents  and  a  tarantula." 

The  farmers  adjacent  to  Denison  are  of  the  old  Southern  type,  none 
veiy  wealthy,  but  all  social,  communicative,  and  glad  to  see  the 
country  improved,  no  matter  by  whom.  There  is  no  end  to  the  land 
for  sale,  at  from  four  to  ten  dollars  per  acre.  At  the  hotels  one  hears 
of  "canned  milk"  and  "sure  enough  milk,"  the  latter  very  scarce. 
All  the  butter  used  here  comes  from  New  York.  There  is  not  a 
county  in  this  section  that  sells  five  hundred  pounds  of  it  per  year. 
"  Cheaper  to  sell  cattle  and  buy  it,"  they  say ;  and  I  suppose  they 
know.  There  are  no  dairies,  and  very  few  potatoes  are  grown. 
Those  on  the  table  at  the  "Alamo  "  are  from  Iowa,  of  picked  sizes,  and 
worth  from  four  to  eight  cents  apiece.  Per  contra,  good  lemons  can 
be  bought  at  "  two  bits  a  dozen ; "  fish  very  cheap,  and  first  rate 
Texas  beef  at  the  same  price  as  potatoes — six  or  seven  cents  per 
pound.  The  soil  hereabouts  is  slightly  sandy;  on  the  slopes  it 
changes  to  a  rich  black  loam,  and  yields  large  crops  of  corn,  wheat 
and  cotton. 

Thence  I  journeyed  leisurely  southward,  over  a  soil  like  that  of  the 
Illinois  prairies.  Not  more  than  one-fifth  of  this  part  of  Texas  is 
fenced  in.  Corn  was  two  or  three  inches  high,  and  wheat  rather  more 
advanced;  but  the  air  was  still  cool  enough  to  make  a  little  fire  in 
the  evening  desirable.  Farmers  all  tell  the  same  story :  "  Monsus 
late,  cold  spring ;  wust  since  I've  been  in  Texas.  Cawn  got  up  three 
inches  high;  then  was  cut  down  by  a  big  frost;  then  we  had  two 
weeks  o'  fine  growin'  weather,  follercd  by  rain  an'  another  frost ;  now 
the  cawn's  doin'  well  agin,  an'  we've  had  the  rain,  an'  the  air's  a 
leetle  like  light  frost,  but  I  hope  not." 

We  cross  many  clear  streams,  lined  with  timber;  between  them  are 
strips  of  high  prairie.  In  the  center  of  the  county  we  stop  at  Sherman, 
a  fine  old  Texan  town,  and  metropolis  of  this  section  before  Denison 


LAS  TEXAS   Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  409 

was  built.  Thence  our  way  is  down  Main  Trinity,  at  an  average  of 
five  miles  from  the  river.  As  all  the  timber  lies  along  the  streams,  we 
are  much  of  the  time  in  a  forest.  It  is  estimated  that  one-half  of  that 
section  of  Texas  east  of  the  Trinity  is  still  covered  with  the  primeval 
forest.  All  the  improvements  worth  noting  are  on  the  prairie,  but  a 
"free-nigger  patch,"  with  demoralized  log-hut,  occasionally  appears  in 
the  low  wooded  bottoms,  where  that  class  mostly  live.  Inquiring  of 
a  philosophical  native  why  this  was  thus,  he  replied :  "Wall,  they 
don't  care  for  the  breeze  like  we.  Reckon  they  want  to  bleach  out. 
You  Northern  folks  are  mistaken  about  that.  'Tain't  the  heat  that 
burns  dark ;  it's  the  wind,  a-stoppin'  the  sweat.  Folks  that  live  in- 
doors, or  in  the  timber,  an'  sweat  free,  are  whiter  than  up  North. 
Find  as  fair  girls  in  Galveston  as  ever  you  saw."  Whether  the 
colored  American  will,  by  operation  of  this  principle,  eventually 
become  a  white  man,  is  another  question. 

In  Collin  County  we  enter  the  cotton  belt  proper.  Here  is  a  region 
a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  square,  with  this  county  on  its  northern 
boundary,  which  could  be  made  to  yield  more  cotton  than  is  now 
grown  in  all  the  States  east  of  the  Mississippi.  Not  more  than  one 
acre  in  ten  of  this  area  is  now  inclosed ;  and,  of  that  inclosed,  the 
smallest  part  is  devoted  to  cotton ;  yet  the  product  is  already  im- 
portant. In  the  year  1870  the  entire  State  had  only  2,964,836  acres 
of  land  under  cultivation,  yet  the  cotton  crop  amounted  to  350,628 
bales.  Thirty  thousand  square  miles,  suitable  to  the  production  of 
cotton,  still  remain  in  a  state  of  nature. 

Peaceful  as  it  looks  along  this  route,  a  short  ride  would  bring  one 
into  a  hostile  country.  Not  fifty  miles  west  is  the  heavily  wooded 
strip  known  as  the  Cross  Timbers;  and,  just  west  of  that,  the  Co- 
manche  may  occasionally  be  found  in  all  his  savage  glory.  Tradition 
tells  of  a  time  when  these  fierce  nomads  were  at  peace  with  the  whites; 
and  tells,  too,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  a  long  truce  was  broken  by  the 
cruel  outrage  and  murder  of  a  Comanche  girl  by  a  young  Texan. 
The  truth  of  this  matter  it  would  be  hard  to  trace,  but  since  that  date 
the  Comanches  have  waged  unending,  inexpiable  war.  Issuing  from 
his  hiding-place  in  the  western  highlands,  the  warrior  descends  with 
remorseless  fury  upon  the  settler ;  and  every  man  of  the  tribe  has  cost 
State  or  Nation  thousands  of  dollars. 

Thence  through  Ellis  and  Navarro  counties,  the  country  is  of  the 
same  general  description,  as  far  as  Corsicana,  where  I  make  a  long 
halt.  Navarro  and  Corsicana — husband  and  wife — were  wealthy  and 
enterprising  Mexicans  who  ruled  this  region,  and  owned  most  of  it 


410 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


forty-five  years  ago.  They  welcomed  American  immigrants  gladly, 
but  did  not  relish  the  revolution  and  change  of  sovereignty,  especially 
as  it  deprived  them  of  many  of  their  rights  and  privileges.  So  they 
sold  what  land  they  had  left,  and  retired  to  Mexico.  The  county 
is  named  for  the  husband,  the  town  for  the  wife.  Here  I  find  that 


COMANCHE  WARRIOR. 


summer  is  rapidly  coming  north  to  meet  me ;  corn  is  a  foot  high,  and 
the  midday  heat  is  a  little  uncomfortable.  Here  corn,  wheat  and  cot- 
ton are  produced  side  by  side;  but  four-fifths  of  the  country  is  still 
unfenced,  and  land  can  be  had  in  abundance  at  surprisingly  low 
rates.  The  planters  tell  me  three-fourths  of  a  bale  of  cotton 
to  the  acre  has  often  been  produced;  but  they  seldom  estimate  that 


LAS  TEXAS  Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  411 

way,  not  counting  the  land  as  an  important  item.  They  say  "  so  many 
bales  to  the  hand/'  and  consider  eight  or  ten  bales  for  each  worker  a 
fair  average. 

The  planters  are  rich  in  land  and  cattle,  but  their  style  of  living  is 
strangely  primitive.  Farm-houses  are  of  an  open,  roomy  sort,  with 
porches  on  three  sides  usually,  built  against  heat  rather  than  cold. 
Milk  and  butter  are  accounted  luxuries.  There  is  but  one  grade  of 
society  among  whites,  all  living  very  much  alike ;  the  negroes 
alone  constituting  the  "  lower  classes."  The  latter  are  lazier  than  the 
whites,  which  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  say  of  them.  They  might,  in  ten 
years,  own  half  the  land  in  the  country  if  they  would  work  steadily. 
Fleas  are  the  curse  of  the  country.  In  Corsicana  the  dust  seems  to 
breed  them,  and  house-keepers  have  a  regular  science  of  ways  and 
means  to  get  rid  of  them.  Other  undesirables  are  the  tarantula  and 
centipede,  the  former  a  badly  slandered  creature  at  the  North ;  for  it 
is  comparatively  harmless,  and  death  very  rarely  results  from  its  bite. 
The  centipede's  sting  is  more  venomous;  it  never  strikes  unless  hurt 
or  disturbed,  but  its  venom  causes  the  flesh  to  rot  from  the  afflicted 
part,  leaving  the  muscles  bare.  But  all  unite  in  saying  they  never 
knew  it  to  cause  death.  I  am,  therefore,  inclined  to  pass  as  fabulous 
the  statement  a  "  returned  volunteer  "  once  gave  me  of  this  creature : 
"An  insect,  sir,  that  runs  like  lightnin',  and  spits  a  juice  that'll  knock 
your  eye  out  at  a  rod  off;  hit's  got  a  diamond  eye,  a  back  like  a  hairy 
spider,  and  a  belly  like  a  tobacker  worm,  with  a  thousand  an'  forty- 
four  legs ;  each  leg  has  four  stingers,  and  every  stinger  carries  second 
death." 

From  Corsicana  the  train  on  the  Texas  Central  Railroad  carried  me 
nearly  straight  south,  leaving  the  valley  of  the  Trinity  and  bearing 
across  the  high  country  to  the  Brazos.  Not  one  acre  in  ten  of  this 
region  is  under  fence.  All  the  rest  is  common  pasture,  though  most 
of  it  belongs  to  private  owners,  and  is  for  sale  at  two  to  six  dollars  per 
acre.  The  region  is  high  and  gently  undulating,  about  one-fifth  in 
timber,  the  rest  fertile  prairie.  My  next  stopping  place  was  Houston, 
which  I  thought,  at  first  view,  the  most  beautiful  place  in  Texas. 
There  had  been  a  twenty-four-hours'  rain,  and  at  9  A.  M.  the  sun 
shone  out  clear ;  the  orange  groves,  magnolias,  and  shade  trees  looked 
their  richest  green,  and  Houston  presented  to  the  newly  arrived 
Northerner  a  most  enchanting  appearance.  That  city,  the  original 
capital  of  Texas,  is  at  the  head  of  Buffalo  Bayou,  a  long  projection  of 
Galveston  Bay,  but  for  some  days  there  had  been  quite  a  current  owing 
to  late  and  heavy  rains.  Three  steamers  were  anchored  in  the  narrow 


412  WESTERN  WILDS., 

channel,  and  half  a  dozen  or  more  alligators,  about  six  feet  long,  were 
sunning  themselves  on  the  drift-wood.  The  view  there  was  not  lovely, 
but  back  in  the  city,  and  on  the  level  tract  in  every  direction  around, 
it  was  all  the  tourist  could  desire.  Attending  Baptist  Sabbath-school 
and  Presbyterian  Church,  I  found  about  three  dozen  persons  at  each ; 
whence  I  argued  that  the  Houstonians  are  not  piously  inclined,  or  that 
a  bright  Sunday  had  greater  charms  outdoors  than  an  orthodox  sermon 
within. 

Monday  morning  I  was  early  awakened  by  a  few  shots,  and  rose  to 
find  some  of  the  patriotic  citizens  celebrating  the  thirty-seventh  anni- 
versary of  the  battle  of  San  Jacinto.  I  was  evidently  in  an  extreme 
Southern  latitude  at  last.  Pictures  of  Lee  and  Stonewall  Jackson 
adorned  the  places  of  resort;  the  boys  whistled  "Bonnie  Blue  Flag" 
and  "  Dixie ; "  and  two  of  my  neighbors  at  the  breakfast  table  had  an 
animated  conversation  about  "  the  doings  of  them  d — d  thieves  up  at 
Austin,"  a  polite  reference  to  the  present  legislature.  By  midday  the 
weather  was  as  hot  as  it  would  have  been  in  Ohio ;  then  the  weather- 
wise  said :  "  We'll  have  a  norther,"  which  is  recognized  as  nature's 
regular  plan  in  Texas  for  settling  the  weather.  The  day  invited  to 
repose ;  and  Houston  is  a  "  reposeful "  place.  All  the  dwellings  have 
a  delightfully  home-like  look,  with  wide  porches  around  them,  and  are 
almost  hidden  in  dark -green  groves.  If  one  were  rich,  and  corre- 
spondingly lazy,  I  can't  think  of  a  better  place  for  him.  But  to  be 
poor,  in  the  far  South — ah,  that  is  bad!  If  that's  your  condition, 
better  stop  in  upper  or  central  Texas. 

Thence  to  Galveston  the  "  mixed  train "  consumed  four  hours  in 
going  fifty  miles.  At  every  station  little  darkies  invaded  the  train 
to  sell  gorgeous  tropical  flowers,  especially  the  immense  magnolia 
buds,  which  expand  to  the  complete  flower  in  a  few  hours  after  being 
gathered.  The  road  slopes  to  the  south-east  so  gently  that  the  eye 
can  not  perceive  the  decline,  and  on  the  whole  route  one  does  not  see 
fifty  houses.  I  am  curious  to  see  the  thickly-settled  part  of  Texas,  for 
I  have  never  found  it  yet.  Herds  of  Texas  cattle  are  seen  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  grazing  appears  to  be  the  only  use  made  of  the  fertile  plain 
extending  thirty  miles  inland  from  the  coast.  Nearing  the  shore  we 
find  a  few  houses,  surrounded  by  little  farms  devoted  to  fruit,  vege- 
tables, and  poultry  for  the  Galveston  market,  but  nothing  to  indicate 
the  vicinity  of  a  great  city.  Passing  these  we  enter  open  country 
again,  and  flat,  marshy  land  of  little  value  extends  some  five  miles 
from  the  Gulf. 

Passing  the  Confederate  earthworks,  erected  to  defend  the  channel 


LAS  TEXAS   Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  413 

against  Yankee  gun-boats,  we  enter  on  the  two-mile  trestle-work, 
which  conducts  us  to  the  beautiful  island  and  delightful  city  of  Gal- 
veston.  An  island  of  hard  white  sand,  thirty  miles  long  and  from 
one  to  four  broad,  rises  evenly  on  every  side  from  the  salt  surf;  no- 
where more  than  ten  or  twenty  feet  above  high  tide,  the  location  has 
just  slope  enough  for  convenient  drainage.  The  city  is  on  the  north- 
cast  end  of  the  island.  The  streets  run  with  the  cardinal  points,  and 
are  lined  on  both  sides  with  heavy  shade-trees.  Except  in  the  center 
of  town  and  the  business  front,  on  the  north  side  and  known  as  the 
Strand,  the  houses  are  surrounded  by  oranges,  oleanders  and  other 
Southern  trees  and  flowers,  the  neat  white  dwellings  rising  from  this 
dark  green  and  leafy  mass.  All  day  the  gulf  breeze  sweeps  inland 
through  the  broad  streets,  and  after  an  hour  or  two  of  sultry  calm  the 
land  breeze  blows  outward  all  night.  In  the  morning  there  is  an- 
other warm  calm  of  an  hour  or  two,  then  the  ocean  breeze  comes 
again.  One  would  think  it  ought  to  be  the  healthiest  place  in  Amer- 
ica. But  there  are  drawbacks.  About  once  in  five  years  the  yellow 
fever  visits  the  place.  The  last  time  the  city  was  almost  entirely 
abandoned.  Already  the  papers  and  physicians  are  arguing  pro  and 
con  the  momentous  question,  "Will  it  come  this  year?"  Late  arri- 
vals report  it  as  very  bad  ac  Rio  Janeiro,  and  slowly  advancing  along 
the  "  Spanish  main." 

It  was  a  gala  day  in  Galveston,  and  in  the  evening  I  found  every 
resort  thronged,  while  on  the  streets  bands  of  music  discoursed 
lively  airs,  and  a  thousand  negroes  thronged  the  streets,  "  happy  as 
clams  at  high  tide."  San  Jacinto  was  being  celebrated,  and  every 
body  and  every  thing  Texan  was  mightily  glorified.  Nothing  disloyal 
or  unfriendly  to  the  nation  was  heard,  but  there  was  a  general  agree- 
ment that  Texas  produced  the  bravest  men  in  the  world.  I  am  too 
good-natured  to  differ  with  them.  I  have  run  down  ten  degrees  of 
latitude  in  less  than  a  month,  from  late  winter  to  early  summer,  and 
begin  to  feel  the  effects  of  such  a  change.  But  in  the  open  halls  and 
on  the  wide  porches  of  the  Exchange,  with  the  gulf  breeze  by  day 
and  the  outward  breeze  by  night,  I  soon  get  my  constitution  accus- 
tomed to  a  deal  of  rest,  and  like  the  lotus-eaters  of  Homer's  fabled 
isle,  having  tasted  the  delights  of  an  ocean  beach  in  the  tropics,  noth- 
ing but  compulsion  takes  me  away. 

No  man  can  ride  on  the  beach  there  without  falling  in  love  with 
Galveston.  Between  the  highest  and  lowest  tide-mark  is  a  nvm,  white 
expanse,  some  two  hundred  yards  wide,  extending  around  the  head  of 
the  island  and  down  the  southern  side  for  thirty  miles.  The  heaviest 


414  WESTERN   WILDS. 

carriage- wheel  barely  marks  it,  the  foot  of  a  horse  scarcely  dents  it ; 
sloping  gently  to  the  water's  edge,  washed  occasionally  by  the  highest 
tide,  and  always  swept  by  a  gentle  wind,  it  is  certainly  the  most  beau- 
tiful drive  on  our  coast.  From  4  P.  M.  till  dark  there  is  the  place 
to  see  the  beauty,  wealth  and  fashion  of  Galveston.  Instead  of  a 
winter  resort,  as  I  had  supposed,  this  is  becoming  rather  a  midsum- 
mer resort.  Old  settlers  from  Virginia  and  Kentucky  tell  me  they 
visit  those  States  in  the  spring  or  autumn,  but  make  it  a  point  to 
spend  midsummer  here,  for  coolness. 

From  Galveston  to  Austin  the  railroad  runs  through  the  very  heart 
of  Texas,  connecting  its  most  important  cities ;  but  less  than  one-fifth 
of  the  country  is  inclosed,  and  every  county  contains  immense  tracts 
of  fertile,  uncultivated  land.  At  Houston  more  railroads  center  than 
at  any  other  point  in  the  State — the  Galveston  Road,  the  Brazoria 
Road  southward  into  the  county  of  that  name,  the  San  Antonio  Road 
westward  to  Colorado  County,  the  Houston  &  Northern  Road  into 
Anderson  County,  and  the  Texas  Central  to  Red  River,  with  a  branch 
from  Hempstead  to  Austin.  Along  this  last  line  the  country  seems 
very  new.  "  Too  much  land  in  Texas "  is  the  popular  explanation. 
In  other  Western  States  one  finds  settlements  thick  along  the  eastern 
boundary,  and  a  rapid  falling  off  near  the  western  border;  in  Texas 
the  "  border "  is  all  over  the  State.  Settlements  and  farms  are  no- 
where coterminous;  and  until  one  goes  some  distance  up  the  slope, 
north-westward,  he  finds  about  as  many  people  in  one  section  as  an- 
other. The  pursuits  of  the  original  Texans,  a  minimum  of  farming  to 
a  maximum  of  hunting  and  herding,  required  large  open  areas  between 
the  farms.  Now  cattle- raising,  as  an  exclusive  business,  is  confined 
to  the  far  western  portion  of  the  State,  and  all  the  center  and  eastern 
section  are  calling  for  immigration. 

Soon  after  crossing  the  Brazos,  from  Austin  County  into  Washing- 
ton, I  found  an  old  Arizona  acquaintance,  the  prickly  cactus,  scattered 
thickly  over  the  prairie — a  pretty  sure  indication  that  we  were  get- 
ting into  a  dryer  country.  A  little  further,  and  we  were  among  the 
mezquit  thickets,  which  look  to  the  stranger  very  like  old  peach  or- 
chards. They  grow  in  patches  on  the  highest  and  dryest  lauds,  and 
are  full  of  thorns  as  long  and  sharp  as  needles. 

Soon  after  we  enter  Travis  County,  and  descend  a  beautiful  and  fer- 
tile slope  to  the  city  of  Austin,  which  appears  from  afar  like  a  scat- 
tered collection  of  neat  white  cottages,  embowered  in  groves  and 
grass-plats.  The  cityward  bluff  of  the  Colorado  rises  almost  perpen- 
dicular for  thirty  feet  or  more  from  the  water's  edge,  thence  a  beauti- 


LAS  TEXAS   Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  415 

ftil  plain  extends  for  some  two  hundred  rods  northward,  and  rises  by 
a  gentle  grade  to  several  picturesque  knolls.  On  the  crest  of  the  cen- 
tral one,  which  slopes  evenly  toward  all  the  cardinal  points,  stands 
the  capitol ;  north  of  it  are  other  public  buildings,  all  around  and  for 
two  miles  further  north  are  the  finest  private  residences,  while  the 
city  proper,  of  trade  and  crowded  streets,  extends  from  the  capitol 
down  to  the  river.  Except  the  main  street  due  south  from  the  cap- 
itol, and  a  few  of  the  nearest  cross-streets,  the  city  appears  like  an  ex- 
tension of  retired  country  seats.  At  three  or  four  places  only  is  the 
steep  bluff  graded  down  to  give  a  passage-  to  the  river ;  but  north  of 
town  is  a  more  gentle  slope,  and  a  broad  sand-bar.  On  the  opposite 
side  is  a  range  of  heavily-timbered  hills,  and  all  around,  far  as  the 
eye  can  see,  and  twenty  miles  further,  extends  a  gently  rolling  coun- 
try, alternating  strips  of  fertile  prairie  with  pretty  little  groves.  The 
commissioners  who  selected  this  site  for  the  capitol  deserved  well  of 
their  country;  but  they  looked  a  long  way  ahead, 'for  it  was  then 
(1839)  "  far  up  the  country,"  on  the  Indian  border,  and  even  now  this 
may  be  considered  the  western  limit  of  connected  settlement.  But 
they  had  faith  in  the  future,  and  selected  the  most  available  spot  near 
the  geographical  center.  In  1841  several  men  were  killed  by  In- 
dians within  the  corporate  limits  of  the  city,  and  Castro,  a  Lepan 
chief,  was  regularly  hired  by  the  infant  government  to  scout  north 
and  west  and  keep  off  the  Comanches.  The  growth  of  the  city  has 
been  slow  and  regular. 

Here  we  enter  the  land  of  border  romance.  Hence  to  the  Rio 
Grande  south-west,  and  to  the  Rocky  Ridge  west  and  north-west,  ev- 
ery grove,  canon  and  valley  has  been  the  scene  of  some  romantic  and 
daring  incident ;  but  should  I  attempt  to  repeat  all  that  are  told  here, 
the  world  itself,  to  borrow  a  simile  from  Scripture,  would  not  contain 
the  books  that  should  be  written.  Hunters  and  herders  alternately 
fought  and  fraternized  with  both  Mexicans  and  Indians,  and  many  a 
brave  Texan  has  risked  and  suffered  sudden  death  by  venturing  back 
to  the  hostile  region  after  a  favorite  Indian  girl  or  senorita.  Noted 
among  the  wild  riders  of  those  days  was  one  Bob  Rock,  an  outcast 
from  Mississippi,  who,  like  thousands  of  others,  had  sought  Texas  as  a 
land  where  legal  requisitions  were  not  valid.  His  skill  with  the  rifle 
passed  into  a  proverb.  "If  Bob  Rock  draws  a  bead  on  him,  he's 
gone,",  was  the  general  verdict.  But  the  desperado  was  conquered  at 
last  by  a  little  mestizo,,  who,  though  of  mixed  blood,  affected  most  the 
company  of  her  wild  kinsmen ;  and  she,  by  her  native  coquetry,  suc- 
ceeded in  drawing  the  hunter  into  the  rocky  region  near  the  head  of 


WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  Colorado.  Attacked  most  treacherously  in  the  tent,  the  stout 
frontiersman  succeeded  in  breaking  the  cordon  and  getting  into  the 
open  plain  with  his  trusty  horse  and  rifle.  But  he  had  another  range 
of  hills  to  cross,  and  every  pass  was  guarded,  while  the  nearest  pur- 
suer was  now  but  two  hundred  yards  behind  him.  "I  felt  orful 
streaked,"  said  Bob  in  his  account,  "but  I  kiiowed  'old  blaze'  had 


'I  SPILED  HIS  AIM." 


never  failed  yet,  so  I  turned,  up  with  the  old  gal  to  my  eye,  and  down 
goes  Mister  Injun.  That  brought  'em  out  all  'round,  an'  I  seed — an' 
I  done  some  quick  thinkin'  then — that  in  one  pass  thar  war  but  one 
Injun.  He  dodged  back  as  I  turned  agin,  to  lay  for  me,  but  I  seed  it 


LAS  TEXAS   Y  LOS  TEJANOS.  417 

was  my  first,  last  and  only,  and  I  sot  old  Sally  at  a  gallop  for  that 
pint,  holdin'  'old  blaze'  to  be  ready  for  him.  Sure  enough,  just  a 
minute  too  soon  to  take  me  on-a-wars,  Mister  Injun  riz  with  his  piece 
ready  cocked.  But  I  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  spiled  his  aim.  His 
bullet  cut  pretty  close,  but  mine  took  him  center,  and  'fore  another  . 
could  get  up  to  the  pass  I  was  through  an'  out,  an'  I  tell  you  I  kept 
clar  of  that  squaw  arter  that."  Fortunately  for  the  community,  Bob's 
blood  cooled  as  he  grew  older,  and  he  settled  into  a  very  respectable 
citizen. 

My  first  call  in  Austin  was  upon  Governor  E.  J.  Davis,  last  Repub- 
lican executive  of  the  State,  then  holding  his  own  against  fearful  odds. 
Also  his  Adjutant  General,  none  other  than  an  old  Evansville  friend, 
Captain  Frank  Britton,  formerly  of  the  Twenty-fifth  Indiana  Volun- 
teers. Between  them  and  other  State  officials  a  hot  conflict  was 
raging,  and  the  Legislature  was  devoting  all  its  energies  to  undoing 
the  work  of  its  predecessors,  so  as  to  cut  down  the  Governor's  power 
as  much  as  possible.  This  body  had  lately  come  into  power  as  the  re- 
sult of  the  revolution  of  1872,  when  the  election  was  carried  by  the 
Democrats  by  an  overwhelming  majority.  It  was  the  first  State  Leg- 
islature I  ever  saw,  and  later  experience  has  not  changed  my  first  im- 
pression, that  it  was  a  very  able  one.  In  the  House  the  Democrats 
had  three-fourths  and  in  the  Senate  only  lacked  three  of  having  two- 
thirds,  all  very  industrious  in  repealing  the  laws  of  preceding  Leg- 
islatures. The  regular  proceeding  was  to  pass  a  law,  send  it  to  the 
Governor,  get  it  back  with  a  veto  message,  and  then  spend  a  week 
bringing  over  enough  Republican  Senators  to  pass  it  over  his  veto. 

I  was  taking  notes  from  Hon.  C.  B.  Sabin,  representative  from 
Brazoria  and  Matagorda  counties,  when  Hon.  "Shack"  Roberts,  of 
Harrison  County,  an  immense  black  man,  rose  to  speak.  His  address 
was  replete  with  humor  and  sarcasm,  causing  great  laughter  and  ap- 
plause. He  is  a  Methodist  preacher,  very  black,  and  uses  the  broad- 
est "plantation-darkey"  English.  The  six  colored  members  of  the 
House  and  two  in  the  Senate  added  a  pleasing  variety.  The  members 
generally  would  compare  quite  favorably  with  those  of  Indiana  or 
Ohio.  (After  that  comparison,  further  description  would  be  "  risky.") 

I  was  introduced  to  the  Honorable  "  Shack,"  and  after  giving  his 
testimony  to  the  improved  condition  of  affairs  generally,  he  added  : 
"The  Methodists  have  done  wonders  for  our  people  in  edication,  and 
we're  a  doin'  more.  Our  church  at  home — the  A.  M.  E. — has  just 
'stablished  the  Wiley  University  at  Marshall,  Texas — named  after 
Bishop  Wiley.  We  bought  two  hundred  acres  in  a  mile  an'  a  half  of 
27 


418  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  court-house,  afore  the  town  started  up  so  with  the  railroad,  an' 
now  we're  sellin'  it  off  fast  in  buildin'  lots  at  from  fifty  to  two  hun- 
dred dollars  a  lot,  savin'  just  twenty  acres  in  the  middle  for  the  uni- 
versity. We'll  soon  have  it  runnin',  and  it  will  be  free  to  both  sexes, 
'thout  regard  to  color  or  previous  condition." 

Texas  is  the  most  tolerant  and  liberal  of  all  the  reconstructed  States. 
While  under  Republican  rule,  very  stringent  laws  had  been  adopted  to 
repress  disorder;  for  the  condition  of  the  State  just  after  the  war  was 
deplorable.  Before  the  war,  it  had  not  been  as  bad  as  reported, 
though  quite  bad  enough.  For  instance,  in  1860,  with  a  population 
of  650,000,  Texas  had  a  total  of  121  homicides;  while  New  York, 
with  3,000,000  people,  had  but  37.  There  was  a  steady  and  rapid  in- 
crease of  crime  until  1869,  the  first  year  of  the  new  regime,  for  which 
there  are  full  returns,  when  the  State  had  no  less  than  1200  homicides! 
In  this  state  of  facts,  the  leading  Republicans  brought  forward 
what  are  sometimes  called  the  "  Five  Administration  Measures : "  The 
militia  law,  the  State  police  law,  the  concealed  weapon  law,  and  the 
school  and  immigration  laws.  The  first  authorized  the  Governor  to 
suspend  the  habeas  corpus  at  his  discretion,  to  order  the  militia  from 
any  part  of  the  State  to  another  part,  and  to  arm  any  portion  of  the 
population  in  any  disturbed  neighborhood.  The  police  law  organized 
a  small  body  of  mounted  men,  to  be  continually  under  pay  of  the 
State,  and  ready  to  go  to  any  section.  They  never  numbered  more 
than  three  hundred. 

Many  brave  Confederate  soldiers  joined  this  militia  and  aided  in 
putting  down  disorder.  The  moral  effect  was  tremendous.  Eight 
hundred  robbers  and  desperadoes  fled  the  State  in  a  body.  There  was 
a  hanging  in  every  county,  till  in  the  State,  except  in  the  extreme 
west,  life  and  property  were  as  secure  as  in  New  England.  Then,  un- 
fortunately, these  extraordinary  powers  were  perverted.  It  was  the 
old  story  over  again:  a  condition  of  strife  and  social  disorder  leads  to 
the  placing  of  immense  power  in  one  man's  hands;  but  when  the  dis- 
order is  passed,  the  ruler  has  grown  too  fond  of  his  power  to  part  with 
it  without  a  struggle,  and  employs  it  to  crush  opposition.  The  people 
seek  refuge  from  anarchy  in  a  sort  of  legal  despotism,  and  are  driven 
by  despotism  into  anarchy.  In  1872  the  State  police  were  used  to 
break  up  Democratic  and  Liberal-Republican  meetings.  But  in  an- 
other year  the  revolution  was  complete,  Governor  Davis  yielded,  in 
an  awkward  hurry,  to  a  Democratic  Governor,  and  now  Texas  is  the 
most  solid  outpost  of  the  "Solid  South." 


CHAPTER     XXVII. 

TEXAS — CONTINUED. 

ROBERT  CAVALIER,  Sieur  tie  la  Salle,  led  the  first  European  im- 
migrants to  Texas,  landing  near  the  entrance  to  Matagorda  Bay,  on 
the  18th  of  February,  1685.  William  Penn  had  founded  Philadelphia 
three  years  before;  the  French  were  stretching  their  settlements  from 
Canada  'down  the  western  rivers,  and  the  Spaniards  were  advancing 
slowly  northward  into  New  Mexico.  A  hundred  and  fifty  years  before, 
some  survivors  of  the  Pamphilo  de  Narvaez  expedition  had  traversed 
Texas  as  captives  among  the  Indians,  but  no  title  to  the  country  could 
result  therefrom. 

La  Salle,  as  American  history  calls  him,  had  discovered  the  mouth 
of  the  Mississippi,  April  7th,  1682,  and  soon  after  took  possession  of 
all  that  region  by  proclamation  and  proces  verbal,  in  the  name  of 
Louis  XIV.  He  was  on  his  return  with  four  ships  to  make  a  settle- 
ment, when  an  error  in  his  calculations  brought  him  on  the  Texan 
coast.  All  his  people  were  in  ecstasies  over  the  beauty  and  richness 
of  the  country,  and  a  settlement  was  agreed  upon  at  once.  Soon  after 
they  moved  over  on  a  stream  they  called  Les  Vaches,  which  the 
Spaniards  afterwards  translated  into  La  Vaca,  both  meaning  "  the  cow-s." 
Hard  work  and  imprudence  in  such  a  climate  produced  sickness ;  care- 
lessness led  to  murders  by  the  Indians;  Beaujeu,  commander  of  the 
fleet,  sailed  away  with  two  of  the  vessels ;  one  of  the  other  two  was 
soon  after  wrecked,  and  the  little  colony  got  badly  discouraged.  By 
the  law  of  nations  this  country,  thinly  occupied  by  wild  Indians,  now 
belonged  to  France;  but  in  due  time  Spain  took  a  different  view  of  it, 
relying  on  previous  Spanish  explorations,  never  proved  however,  to 
the  satisfaction  of  diplomats.  Near  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century 
Philip  II.,  the  gloomy  tyrant  of  Spain,  issued  a  royal  order  forbid- 
ding all  foreigners  to  enter  this  territory  under  penalty  of  extermina- 
tion. Thus  began  a  "  border  question,"  which,  passing  down  suc- 
cessively from  Spaniard  to  Mexican,  and  from  French  to  English  and 
American,  lasted  two  centuries  and  a  half,  till  settled  by  the  treaty  of 
Guadalupe  Hidalgo,  on  the  2d  of  February,  1848.  In  this  contro- 


420  WESTERN   WILDS. 

versy,  reader,  find  the  key  to  the  whole  history  of  Texas  as  connected 
with  other  governments. 

Its  settlement  cost  the  lives  of  many  thousand  good  men.  The 
Comanches  were  then,  as  now,  a  race  of  nomadic  thieves ;  the  Lipans  and 
Carankawaes  dominated  the  country  between  the  Rio  Grande  and  Col- 
orado. Other  tribes  were  the  Caddoes,  Cenis  and  Nassonites.  Texas 
had  neither  boundaries  nor  a  name.  The  origin  of  the  latter  nobody 
knows,  but  it  is  supposed  to  be  from  an  Indian  word  meaning  "good 
hunting-ground,"  and  was  long  spelled  indifferently  Tehas,  Tejas, 
Tekas  or  Texas,  which  differ  very  little  in  Spanish  pronunciation. 
Even  now  the  residents  are  known  as  Tejanos  (pro.  Teh-hah-noes)  by 
the  Mexicans. 

La  Salle  started  northward  with  a  considerable  company,  to  open 
communication  with  Canada ;  and  was  murdered  by  two  of  his  men. 
The  survivors  quarreled  among  themselves;  the  murderers  were 
in  turn  assassinated;  others  were  drowned  or  captured,  and  of  all 
that  colony  onlv  five  lived  to  see  France  again.  Those  left  on  the 

•/  •/ 

Lavaca  were  surprised  by  the  Indians,  part  killed,  and  the  rest  carried 
into  captivity,  whence  in  old  age  they  were  reclaimed  by  the  mission- 
aries. Thus  ended  the  first  settlement  in  Texas. 

Soon  after  the  Spaniards  planted  missions  and  military  posts  in  the 
south-west,  but  drought  and  hostile  Indians  drove  them  out,  and  for 
twenty  years  the  country  had  not  one  white  inhabitant.  In  1712 
Louis  XIV  granted  to  Anthony  Crozat  all  Louisiana,  as  far  west  as 
the  Rio  Grande,  and  sent  out  an  embassy,  which  was  captured  by  the 
Spaniards.  "The  year  of  Missions"  in  Texas  was  1715,  when  the 
Spaniards  began  again  to  plant  them  in  the  country.  Thereafter  it 
was  permanently  occupied  by  Spain,  and  its  various  sections  known  as 
the  New  Philippines  and  New  Estremadura.  For  some  fifty  years 
now  we  have  the  Mission  Period,  as  in  all  Spanish  American  countries. 
Those  in  Texas  were  controlled  by  zealous  Franciscan  priests,  who 
spent  a  life-time  in  toil  to  convert  the  savage  natives.  At  each  mis- 
sion was  a  presidio,  or  commandant's  head-quarters,  with  officers 
enough  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  though  the  latter  rarely  num- 
bered so  many.  The  first  move  was  to  capture  by  force  or  stratagem 
a  hundred  or  more  Indians.  On  these  kindness  and  persuasion  were 
exhausted,  and  they  were  taught  all  the  ceremonies  of  an  exceedingly 
ceremonial  religion.  When  sufficiently  trusty  they  were  sent  out  to 
persuade  others  in ;  abundance  of  food  was  insured  them,  agriculture 
was  taught,  all  the  feasts  and  fasts  were  scrupulously  observed,  and  at 
some  missions  the  daily  exercises  in  prayer  and  other  services  occupied 


TEXAS—  CONTINUED. 

five  hours!  Those  whom  this  system  converted  it  in  due  time  wore 
out;  those  who  resisted  it  were  made  wilder  than  ever.  Then  the 
fathers  began  with  the  women  and  children,  with  far  better  success; 
and  in  due  time  there  grew  up  about  each  mission  a  considerable  pop- 
ulation of  domesticated  Indians,  who  cultivated  the  soil,  were  pain- 
fully pious  and  as  docile  as  sheep.  The  fathers  called  themselves 


UN  INDIO  BRAVO  —TEXAS. 


gente  de  razon,  or  people  of  reason,  in  contradistinction  to  the 
heathen;  but  in  due  time  arose  a  better  nomenclature.  The  wild 
Indians  were  known  as  Indios  bravos,  the  converted  as  Indios  reducidos. 
And  badly  "  reduced  "  they  were.  Little  by  little  the  reducidos  were 
merged,  largely  by  intermarriage  with  discharged  soldiers.  Hence  the 
mestizoes,  nearly  the  same  as  regular  Mexicans  of  the  present  day. 


422  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Meanwhile  great  things  had  happened  in  Europe,  which  changed 
the  political  map  of  America.  William  of  Orange,  the  Champion  of 
Protestantism — if  he  had  not  been  that,  we  should  have  thought 
him  a  sullen  Dutchman — had  fairly  worn  out  Louis  XIV,  and  made 
peace  with  him.  But  soon  after,  the  lunatic  King  of  Spain  died,  and 
all  the  other  lunatics  fell  to  cutting  each  other's  throats  about  the 
"balance  of  power/'  that  mysterious  abstraction  which  has  caused 
more  wholesale  murder  in  modern  Europe  than  all  other  causes  com- 
bined. The  English,  Dutch  and  Germans  would  not  allow  the  crown 
of  Spain  to  be  bestowed  on  Philip  of  Anjou,  grandson  of  Louis  XIV, 
as  provided  by  Philip  of  Spain,  in  his  so-called  will.  Hence  another 
bloody  war,  and  a  general  rearrangement  at  the  treaty  of  Ryswick. 
But  this  left  open  certain  questions  between  France  and  Spain ;  so  they 
went  to  war  in  1718. 

The  Louisiana  French  attacked  and  drove  out  the  Spaniards  as  far 
west  as  Bexar.  But  the  latter  soon  recovered  the  country.  After  a 
deal  of  reconnoitering,  some  sharp  fighting,  and  many  brave  actions 
and  romantic  incidents  in  Texas,  a  sort  of  peace  was  patched  up  be- 
tween France  and  Spain,  and  the  latter  determined  to  colonize  Texas 
regularly.  Soon  after,  the  French  handed  over  Louisiana  to  the 
Mississippi  Company,  then  controlled  by  the  notorious  John  Law,  the 
original  "  greenbacker "  and  great  "  soft  money "  advocate.  Other 
schemes  now  occupied  the  two  nations,  and  their  respective  colonists 
had  time  to  attend  to  legitimate  business.  In  1728,  Spain  sent  to 
Texas  several  families  from  the  Canary  Isles,  then  peopled  by  a  race 
knoAvn  above  all  Spaniards  for  rigid  adherence  to  the  Catholic  Church, 
domestic  purity,  and  respect  for  women.  Another  colony  came,  com- 
posed of  the  original  Tlascalans,  whom  Cortez  could  not  conquer ; 
they  assisted  grea'tly  in  capturing  Indios  bravos  for  conversion.  But 
the  country  was  in  bad  shape.  Many  dissolute  soldiers  had  been  dis- 
charged there.  It  invited  wanderers  and  adventurers;  and  had  a  bad 
name  as  early  as  1750.  Apache  and  Comanche  raids  were  frequent, 
and  pirates  began  to  hover  along  the  coast.  So  in  1745,  Texas  con- 
tained no  more  than  1,500  whites — less  than  in  1722.  Mestizoes  and 
"converted  Indians"  were  more  numerous. 

Thence  to  1758  there  was  a  dead  calm.  That  year  the  Indians  cap- 
tured San  Saba  Mission,  and  killed  every  one  there.  Thenceforward 
the  missions  declined.  Meanwhile  England  and  France  got  to  fight- 
ing again ;  there  was,  therefore,  a  general  rectification  of  boundaries  in 
America,  and  a  new  deal  all  around  the  board  in  Europe.  France 
was  so  weakened  by  this  contest,  that  in  1762  she  ceded  Louisiana  to 


TEXAS— CONTINUED.  423 

Spain,  to  keep  England  from  getting  it.  Bear  in  mind  that  Louisiana 
then  meant  all  the  country  drained  by  the  Mississippi,  except  where 
the  English  had  obtained  prior  rights  on  its  eastern  affluents.  Next 
year  peace  was  made,  by  which  England  got  Canada  and  all  the 
French  country  east  of  the  Mississippi  and  above  the  present  Louisi- 
ana. One  clause  in  that  treaty  was  afterwards  of  immense  importance 
to  the  United  States,  viz. :  "  The  navigation  of  the  Mississippi  to  be 
free  to  the  subjects  of  both  England  and  France." 

This  state  of  affairs  continued  forty  years,  and  was  of  immense  ad- 
vantage to  Texas ;  the  missions  died  out,  and  regular  colonists  began 
to  take  their  place.  Meanwhile  the  American  Revolution  occurred, 
and  there  was  no  end  of  fighting  between  England  on  one  side  and 
France  and  Spain  on  the  other.  Spain  refused  the  free  navigation  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  the  people  of  the  western  States  swore  they  would 
take  it  by  force.  Then  the  French  Revolution  took  place,  and  for 
awhile  France  had  to  fight  all  the  rest  of  Europe.  By  secret  treaty  in 
1800,  Louisiana  was  transferred  back  from  Spain  to  France,  though  the 
United  States  did  not  know  it  till  two  years  after.  All  this  time  the 
boundaries  of  Texas  and  Louisiana  had  remained  unsettled ;  the 
French  had  often  claimed  as  far  west  as  the  Rio  Grande,  the  Span- 
iards always  as  far  east  as  the  Sabine.  This  condition  invited  revolu- 
tionists and  adventurous  spirits,  and  there  were  numerous  incursions, 
battles,  skirmishes,  and  massacres  which  have  no  connection  with  the 
general  history.  Meanwhile  the  French  Revolution  progressed  ;  Bon- 
aparte got  control  of  that  country,  and  found  himself  engaged  in  a 
life  and  death  struggle  with  England.  He  could  not  hold  Louisiana, 
and  needed  money ;  the  United  States  was  on  hand  with  the  cash,  the 
sale  was  made,  and  the  transfer  completed  by  imposing  ceremonies  in 
New  Orleans,  in  December,  1803. 

This  brought  up  the  old  border  question  in  a  new  shape.  While  the 
diplomats  of  Spain  and  the  United  States  used  up  two  years  in  at- 
tempts at  a  treaty,  the  provinces  were  a  dozen  times  on  the  point  of 
actual  war.  Governor  Claiborne,  of  Louisiana,  called  out  the  militia, 
and  forbade  the  Spaniards  to  cross  the  Sabine.  At  length  it  was  set- 
tled that  the  strip  between  the  Sabine  and  Arroyo  Hondo  should  be 
neutral  ground  for  the  present.  This  was  a  beautiful  arrangement. 
Of  course  the  neutral  strip  was  soon  infested  by  desperadoes,  and 
countless  robberies  and  outrages  were  perpetrated.  In  one  instance 
two  desperadoes  were  captured,  and  to  make  them  betray  their  com- 
panions were  severely  whipped.  Then  live  coals  were  passed  over 
their  raw  and  bleeding  backs.  But  they  were  gritty  rascals,  and  re- 


424  WESTERN   WILDS. 

fused  to  the  last.  To  this  stage  of  Texan  history  belong  the  establish- 
ments on  the  coast  by  pirates  and  smugglers,  such  as  that  of  La  Fitte  at 
Barataria. 

Early  in  1812,  Lieutenant  A.  W.  Magee,  left  his  post  in  the  United 
States  territory,  and  with  a  mixed  force  of  adventurers  from  the 
States,  volunteers  from  the  neutral  ground,  and  natives  of  Texas  of 
Spanish  blood,  marched  westward  to  redeem  that  region  from  the  rule 
of  Spain.  There  had  been  a  sort  of  civil  war  in  Mexico  between  the 
popular  party  and  the  aristocrats ;  the  Anglo-Texans  had  taken  the 
popular  side,  and  Magee  came  in  to  assist  them.  It  would  have  been 
money  in  his  pocket  and  in  theirs  had  he  stayed  away.  He  was 
steadily  victorious  till  he  reached  La  Bahia,  west  of  the  Guadaloupe. 
There  he  was  confronted  by  a  large  force  under  Salado,  and  agreed  to 
retire.  This  his  men  refused  to  accede  to,  and  at  once  attacked  the 
Spaniards,  and  gained  a  bloody  victory.  Overcome  with  shame,  Magee 
died  by  his  own  hand.  After  various  successes  this  army  fell  into  an 
ambuscade,  and  were  nearly  all  killed  or  captured.  The  prisoners 
were  brutally  murdered  by  the  Spaniards. 

Bonaparte's  wars  were  now  stirring  up  devilment  and  wholesale  < 
murder  in  every  corner  of  the  civilized  world.  He  had  invaded  Spain, 
deposed  the  feeble  king,  banished  the  royal  family,  then  at  war  with 
itself,  and  put  his  brother  Joseph  on  the  throne.  Two  Spanish  parties 
at  once  arose :  for  accepting  Joseph  and  for  opposing  him.  Blood 
flowed  on  all  sides.  The  divisions  extended  to  all  Spanish  America. 
In  Mexico  the  ruling  classes  favored  Joseph  Bonaparte ;  the  common 
people  supported  the  juntas,  or  revolutionary  bodies  which  resisted 
him.  On  all  sides  the  standard  of  revolt  was  raised.  The  Indians 
burned  to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  three  centuries ;  the  common  Mex- 
icans were  greedy  for  spoil ;  the  Church  labored  for  aggrandizement. 
There  were  murders  and  riots  in  every  section ;  towns  were  sacked  and 
prisoners  massacred  by  thousands,  and  Mexico  entered  upon  that  ca- 
reer of  bloody  anarchy  which  has  continued  with  only  occasional  in- 
termissions to  this  day.  When  this  condition  was  at  its  worst,  war 
broke  out  between  England  and  the  United  States.  La  Fitte  and  other 
pirates  and  smugglers  received  a  general  pardon  for  serving  under 
General  Jackson  at  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  and  after  the  peace  re- 
turned and  took  possession  of  Galveston  Island.  There  they  set  up 
an  independent  government — the  most  ridiculous  little  sovereignty  that 
ever  existed — which  flourished  greatly  until  broken  up  by  the  Amer- 
ican authorities. 

Mexico  obtained  her  independence,  and  established  the  celebrated 


TEXAS— CONTINUED.  425 

Constitution  of  1824,  about  which  there  has  been   so  much  fighting 
since.     We  have  seen  how  the  division  in  Spain  excited  revolution  in 
Mexico ;  in  exactly  the  same  way  civil  war  in  Mexico  brought  on  re- 
volt, and  finally  independence,  in  Texas.     No  sooner  was  the  Constitu- 
tion of  1824  adopted,  than    the  ruling   classes    insisted  on  a  strong 
central  government,  the  reduction  of  the  States  to  departments,  and  a 
president  with  greater  powers.     These  were  called  Centralists ;  their 
opponents  Federalists — a  name  meaning  the  exact  opposite  of  what  it 
does  in  the  United  States.     Santa  Anna,  by  intrigue,  treachery,  and 
the  support  of  the  Church,  obtained  control  as  a  Centralist;  his  great 
rival  Bustamente  stirred  up  numerous  revolutions  among  the  Federal- 
ists.    At  first  Texas  appeared  equally  divided,  but  in  no  long  time  the 
Federalists  got  control,  as  it  was  obviously  for  her  interests  that  there 
should  be  separate  State  governments.     Embassies  and  petitions  were 
sent  to  Mexico  City ;  the  petitions  were  disregarded,  the  envoys  often 
imprisoned.     Thus,  little  by  little  the  war  spirit  was  excited  in  Texas. 
Meanwhile  Moses  Austin  had  obtained  his  large  grant  of  land  in 
Texas  from  the  Mexican  government,  and  dying,  left  its  settlement  to 
his  son  Stephen.     Having  completed  this  work,  Stephen  Austin  took 
an  active  part  in  political  affairs,  and  went  to  Mexico  as  an  envoy 
from  Texas.     There  he  was  thrown  into  prison,  where  he  remained 
two  years  and  a  half.     All  this  time  the  Mexicans  went  on  pulling 
down  one  and  setting  up  another ;  and,  as  the  result  of  half  a  dozen 
revolutions,  Bustamente  and  the  Federalists  came  into  power.     But 
their  rule  was  as  bad  for  Texas  as  that  of  the  Centralists.     They  con- 
cluded that  the  Territory  contained  too  many  Americans,  and  forbade 
the  immigration  of  any  more !      They  passed  about  all  the  vexatious 
laws  against  free  trade  they  could  think  of.     Whenever  it  was  certified 
to  them  that  the  Anglo-Texans  were  making  money  on  any  article, 
they  straightway  proceeded  to  restrict  its  sale  or  production.     Among 
other  bright  laws,  was  one  that  no  planter  in  Texas  should  sow  more 
than  one  bushel  of  tobacco   seed !      Tobacco  growers   will    see   the 
point.     The  largest  planter  in  Ohio  does  not  use  a  gill. 

To  further  aggravate  the  Texans,  their  province  was  attached  to 
Coahuila.  The  Mexicans  of  that  State  furnished  two-thirds  of  the 
legislature ;  and  the  inhabited  part  of  Texas  was  nearly  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  State  capital.  The  Texans  agitated  and  interceded  for 
a  separate  government ;  the  Mexican  authorities  responded  by  a  more 
oppressive  tariff  law,  and  by  introducing  garrisons  into  the  country  to 
overawe  the  "  rebels."  Meanwhile  there  was  another  revolution  in 
Mexico.  Bustamente  retired,  Santa  Anna  took  the  reins,  and  estab- 


426 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


lished  the  firmest  government  Mexico  ever  enjoyed.  As  soon  as  he 
had  tranquillized  the  other  States,  hanged  and  shot  a  few  dozen  of 
his  opponents,  and  banished  the  rest,  he  collected  a  large  army  and 
marched  on  Texas,  to  settle  things,  as  he  said,  effectually.  He  did  it; 
but  not  exactly  as  he  had  intended. 

The  white  population  of  Texas  did  not  exceed  50,000.     They  had 

been  divided,  but  the  approach 
of  the  army  united  them ;  and 
they  resolved  on  independence. 
Their  army  easily  drove  out  the 
feeble  garrisons  in  South-western 
Texas,  but  in  no  long  time  was 
overwhelmed  by  disaster.  Early 
in  1836,  Santa  Anna  entered  the 
Territory  with  an  army  of  8,000 
men,  sending  word  to  the  Tex- 
ans  that  he  intended  to  "  sweep 
away  every  thing  save  the  rec- 
ollection that  they  once  existed." 
The  brave  William  Barret  Travis 
commanded  the  Alamo  Fort  with 
only  a  hundred  and  thirty  men. 
He  sent  off,  with  all  speed,  for 
reinforcements ;  announced  that 

TEXAS  AND  COAHTTILA  IN  1830.  J^  ^^   ho]d    ^  place    m    ^ 

rest  of  the  country  could  be  put  in  posture  for  defense,  and  con- 
cluded with  the  words:  "  God  and  Texas!  Liberty  or  Death!" 
Of  that  hundred  and  thirty  men,  only  Moses  Rose  escaped ;  and 
he,  ashamed  of  having  abandoned  his  companions,  and  slipped  out 
through  the  Mexicans  at  the  last  hour,  never  gave  account  of  the 
siege  till  on  his  death-bed.  For  two  weeks  the  Mexicans  kept  it  up, 
making  daily  assaults,  and  being  picked  off  by  the  Texan  rifles.  The 
last  evening  the  enemy  withdrew  to  prepare  for  a  final  assault.  Travis 
ranged  his  few  surviving  followers,  and  thus  addressed  them : 

"  Men,  we  must  die  !  Our  speedy  massacre  is  a  fixed  fact.  Let  us 
choose  that  mode  which  can  best  serve  our  country.  If  we  surrender, 
we  shall  be  shot;  if  we  try  to  cut  our  way  out,  we  shall  be  butchered 
before  we  can  kill  twenty  of  the  enemy.  We  could  but  lose  our  lives 
without  benefiting  our  friends — our  fathers  and  mothers,  our  brothers 
and  sisters,  our  wives  and  little  ones.  Let  us,  then,  vow  to  die  to- 
gether. Let  us  kill  as  many  as  possible.  Kill  them  as  they  scale  the 


TEXAS— CONTINUED.  427 

wall!  Kill  them  as  they  leap  in!  Kill  them  as  they  raise  their 
weapons;  and  continue  to  kill  them  as  long  as  one  of  us  shall  remain 
alive.  And,  be  assured,  our  memory  will  be  gratefully  cherished  till 
all  history  shall  be  erased  and  noble  deeds  be  forgotten  among  men. 
God  and  Texas!  Liberty  or  Death!" 

He  then  traced  a  line  with  his  sword,  requesting  all  who  would  die 
with  him  to  step  over  it.  Every  one  complied  but  Rose.  He,  dis- 
guised as  a  Mexican,  and  speaking  the  language  fluently,  crawled  out 
down  a  ravine  and  escaped.  Long  before  daylight  the  Mexicans  ad- 
vanced, with  discharges  of  musketry  and  cannon.  The  cavalry  formed 
a  ring  around  the  infantry,  for  the  double  purpose  of  urging  them  on 
and  preventing  the  escape  of  any  of  the  garrison.  Pressed  on  by  those 
behind,  the  foremost  assailants  tumbled  inside  the  walls  by  hun- 
dreds. Every  Texan  died  fighting.  Travis  was  shot,  and  a  Mexican 
officer  rushed  forward  to  dispatch  him ;  he  rallied  all  his  strength, 
pierced  his  assailant  with  his  sword,  and  both  expired  together.  Major 
Evans  was  shot  in  the  act  of  attempting  to  fire  the  magazine.  Bowie, 
then  disabled,  was  butchered  in  his  bed.  When  only  seven  were 
left  they  asked  for  quarter.  It  was  refused;  and,  drawing  their 
bowie-knives,  they  rushed  to  a  final  assault,  and  died  on  the  bayo- 
nets of  their  foes.  Their  remains  were  savagely  mutilated  and  re- 
fused burial. 

Among  the  slain  was  one,  with  bowie-knife  clinched  in  his  stiffened 
hand,  and  surrounded  by  a  heap  of  the  fallen  enemy,  whose  counte- 
nance bore  even  in  death  the  impress  of  that  nobleness  which  had  an- 
imated it  in  life,  conjoined  with  the  healthful  freshness  of  the  hunter's 
aspect.  It  was  Colonel  David  Crockett,  of  Tennessee — a  man  whose 
real  life  was  a  romance  more  thrilling  than  novelist  ever  portrayed. 
He  was  a  product  of  nature  in  her  most  bounteous  clime,  of  active  life 
and  free  institutions.  In  childhood  the  axe  and  the  rifle  were  his 
playthings ;  in  early  manhood  he  fought  for  his  country  against  the 
British,  and  in  peace  his  personal  qualities  earned  promotion  from  his 
neighbors.  Hospitality  kept  cheerful  watch  at  his  door ;  welcome  sat 
smiling  at  his  table,  and  social  humor  gleamed  in  his  bright  eye.  His 
career  in  Congress  was  not  a  success,  but  gave  him  a  keener  relish  for 
a  free,  western  life;  and  he  left  his  native  State  for  Texas,  to  assist  in 
making  her  free.  Brave  Crockett,  thou  didst  deserve  a  better  fate ;  but 
in  thy  death  was  born  a  zeal  for  Texan  freedom  which  did  more  than 
a  thousand  lives.  In  thy  memory  the  State  has  a  legacy  that  will 
glorify  her  early  annals,  and  animate  her  sons  till  the  last  hour  of 
her  existence. 


428 


WESTERN    WILDS. 


The  best  accounts  place  the  Mexican  loss  at  twelve  hundred.  The* 
dead  heroes  had  accomplished  their  object;  Santa  Anna  was  weak- 
ened and  delayed,  and  the  young  State  was  saved.  Shortly  after 
Colonel  Fannin,  with  four  hundred  men,  began  his  retreat  from 
Goliad  to  Victoria;  but  was  surrounded,  and  surrendered  his  com- 
mand to  General  Urrea,  as  prisoners  of  war.  They  were  barbarously 
massacred  by  order  of  Santa  Anna,  only  a  few  medical  men  being 

spared,  because  the 
Mexican  army  need- 
ed them.  On  all 
sides  the  Anglo- 
Texan  families  now 
fled  before  the  in- 
vaders; the  latter 
followed  close,  burn- 
ing every  thing  they 
could  not  carry 
away.  Finally  Gen- 
eral Sam  Houston, 
the  Commander-in- 
Chief,  with  only 
eight  hundred  men, 
made'  a  stand  at 
San  Jacinto,  on 
B  u  ff  a  1  o  Bayou, 
where  he  was  at- 
tacked by  the  whole 
army  of  Santa  Anna. 
T  h  e  Texans  a  d- 
vanced  furiously  to 
the  charge,  a  hand-to-hand  combat  followed,  and  in  one  hour  the 
Mexicans  fled  in  confusion,  leaving  six  hundred  and  thirty  dead 
upon  the  field,  and  eight  hundred  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the 
Texans.  This  battle,  fought  April  21st,  1836,  settled  the  question 
of  independence  forever.  Early  next  morning  a  party  of  Texans 
found,  hidden  in  a  marsh  near  the  bayou,  a  slender  and  light  com- 
plexioned  man,  wearing  a  valuable  ring  on  his  finger,  but  awkwardly 
clad  in  the  dress  of  a  common  Mexican  soldier.  He  begged  for  his 
life ;  and  when  his  captors  told  him  he  was  safe,  seized  the  dirty  hand 
of  the  nearest  and  covered  it  with  kisses !  It  was  Santa  Anna  I 
Other  Mexican  officers,  similarly  disguised,  were  detected  in  like 


GENERAL  SAM  HOUSTON. 


TEXAS— CONTINUED.  429 

manner  by  their  complexion ;  for  the  officers  are,  as  a  rule,  of  purer 
Spanish  blood  than  the  privates.. 

When  brought  to  General  Houston,  stiff  with  cold  and  barely  able 
to  speak,  the  prisoner  announced  his  name  and  rank,  and  asked  for 
opium.  Having  swallowed  this,  his  spirits  soon  revived,  and  address- 
ing Houston  with  lofty  dignity,  he  said:  "Sir,  you  are  born  to  no 
ordinary  destiny;  you  have  conquered  the  Napoleon  of  the  West!" 
Modesty  never  was  Santa  Anna's  strong  suit. 

While  a  captive  he  acknowledged  the  independence  of  Texas,  but 
repudiated  it  when  free;  and  a  feeble  sort  of  border  war  went  on  for 
eight  years,  the  Texans  making  several  expeditions  against  Santa  Fe, 
all  of  which  proved  unsuccessful.  In  these  and  the  Mier  expedition 
many  barbarities  were  committed — some  on  both  sides.  Then  came 
the  annexation  to  the  United  States,  the  Mexican  war,  the  period  of 
development,  and  the  war  of  the  Rebellion,  all  of  which  are  within 
the  memory  of  men  yet  young.  Texas  suffered  less  from  the  late  war 
than  any  other  Southern  State.  Her  soil  was  barely  touched  upon  the 
border  by  invading  Federals.  She  was  smart  enough  to  let  Confed- 
erate money  alone,  and  stick  to  gold  and  silver,  which  constitute  her 
currency  to-day.  Soon  after  the  war  "the  spirit  of  immigration  revived, 
and  since  1872  Texas  has  been  receiving  settlers  at  the  average  rate 
of  two  or  three  thousand  per  week.  And  still  there  is  room.  Of 
her  270,000  square  miles,  or  thereabout,  one-third  or  more  is  as  fer- 
tile as  any  part  of  the  West ;  one-third  is  less  fertile,  but  of  great 
value  for  grazing;  the  remainder,  lying  far  up  the  slope,  is  dotted 
with  rocky  hills  and  sandy  wastes.  The  Staked  Plain,  so  called 
from  the  stakes  with  which  the  Mexicans  marked  a  road  across  it,  is 
mostly  an  irreclaimable  desert.  As  in  all  the  border  States,  fertility 
decreases  as  one  goes  towards  the  heads  of  the  streams,  up  the  slope 
and  away  from  the  larger  bodies  of  water  and  timber.  Her  100,000 
square  miles  of  fertile  land  now  contain  at  least  1,200,000  inhab- 
itants; and  there  is  land  abundant  for  twice  as  many  more.  She  can 
accommodate  the  surplus  population  of  the  Southern  and  Middle- 
Western  States  for  fifty  years. 

Dallas  is  the  center  of  a  region  two  hundred  miles  square,  which  is 
eminently  fitted  for  occupation  by  Northern  men.  In  the  upper  sec- 
tions corn,  wheat  and  cotton  grow  side  by  side ;  farther  down  corn 
and  cotton  are  the  staples.  It  is  high,  dry  and  healthful ;  but  North- 
erners should  not  settle  on  the  "bottom  lands"  along  the  streams. 
Even  Texans  incline  to  surrender  them  to  the  freedmen.  Southern 
Texas  would  not  suit  the  majority  of  Northern  born  settlers.  Not 


430  WESTERN  WILDS. 

that  it  is  so  hot,  but  the  heat  continues  longer,  and  in  winter  the 
extremes  are  painful.  Warm,  moist  weather  is  generally  followed 
very  suddenly  by  a  "blue  norther"  that  pinches  one  fearfully.  The 
streams  are  more  sluggish,  too,  and  malaria  is  to  be  apprehended. 
Some  constitutions  stand  it  very  well,  however.  The  grazing  region 
proper  is  in  the  south-west  and  west. 

The  central  portion  of  Western  Texas  is  regarded  as  the  best  sheep 
country  m  the  State.  It  is  a  broken,  high,  rolling  country,  supplied 
with  an  abundance  of  rocks  and  clear  rippling  streams,  and  excellent  ' 
grass.  The  sheep  fatten  easily,  grow  magnificent  fleeces;  and  owing 
to  the  mild  climate,  the  herders  are  very  successful  in  raising  the 
lambs,  the  percentage  of  loss  being  very  small. 

Except  in  the  southern  part,  most  of  Western  Texas  is  too  dry  for 
agriculture  to  be  a  certain  resource  without  irrigation ;  but  by  reports 
of  engineers,  a  considerable  portion  of  the  land  can  be  watered  by 
acecquias  from  the  numerous  rivers.  By  far  the  largest  portion  will 
remain  a  grazing  ground  for  all  time. 

In  all  the  central  and  upper  part  of  the  State  water-power  is 
abundant.  All  kinds  of  useful  minerals  can  be  had  in  the  various 
sections:  iron  in  Burnet,  Llano,  Lampasas  and  Mason  counties,  of 
the  best  qualities;  copper  in  several  places,  and  salt  in  abundance. 
Gypsum  is  found  in  immense  beds  up  in  the  desert  region.  Stretching 
over  ten  degrees  of  latitude,  and  from  the  16°  to  30°  degree  of  longitude 
west  from  Washington,  it  is  evident  the  State  can  not  be  described 
as  a  whole,  or  in  any  general  terms.  Every  thing  said  about  Texas, 
whether  good  or  bad,  is  true — if  applied  to  the  appropriate  section. 
It  reaches  to  within  one-half  degree  of  as  far  south  as  does  Florida; 
wThile  its  northern  boundary  is  nearly  continuous  with  the  northern 
line  of  Tennessee.  But  its  climate  and  productions  are  not  determined 
by  latitude  alone.  The  entire  State  consists  of  one  great  slope — or, 
perhaps  more  properly,  a  series  of  narrow  plateaus,  each  breaking 
gently  to  the  next  lower — from  near  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  On  the  eastern  border  the  slope  is  nearly 
due  south,  and  on  the  extreme  south  nearly  due  east;  but  in  four- 
fifths  of  the  State  it  is  south-east.  From  the  high,  bare  plains  of  the 
Xorth-west,  and  from  the  wind-caves  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
"  blue  northers "  sweep  down  over  the  Llano  Estacado  and  treeless 
plains  of  Young  and  Bexar  Districts,  and  greatly  modify  the  climate 
to  a  much  lower  latitude.  But  down  the  streams  the  increasing  tim- 
ber lessens  their  force.  The  climate  is  singularly  equable  for  the  width 


TEXAS— CONTINUED.  431 

of  three  or  four  counties,  and  then  the  heat  increases  rapidly  till  you 
again  get  within  range  of  the  tempering  breezes  from  the  gulf. 

The  thermometer  never  ranges  quite  as  high  as  in  latitudes  a  long 
way  north.  In  Houston  the  climate  seems  nearly  perfection.  For 
twenty  years  the  thermometer  has  never  been  above  ninety-five 
degrees.  At  one  time,  in  the  coldest  weather,  it  sank  to  ten  degrees 
above  zero,  but  rarely  goes  lower  than  twenty  degrees.  The  average 
of  the  "  heated  term,"  one  day  with  another,  is  there  recorded  at 
eighty-four  degrees.  There  has  never  been  a  case  of  sunstroke  at 
Houston.  Only  half  a  dozen  are  recorded  at  Galveston.  Necessa- 
rily, over  such  an  area  as  I  have  outlined,  we  find  every  product  of 
the  temperate  zone,  and  many  of  the  torrid.  In  popular  language, 
then,  Texas  is  considered  in  four  grand  divisions.  Eastern  Texas 
includes  the  country  from  the  Sabine  to  the  Trinity  River;  Central 
Texas,  that  from  the  Trinity  to  the  Colorado ;  Northern  Texas  means 
the  two  or  three  tiers  of  counties  nearest  Red  River,  and  all  of  Young 
Territory;  and  Western  Texas  the  whole  region  from  the  Colorado 
to  the  Rio  Grande,  including  the  grazing  district. 

The  old  Texans  are  not  very  enterprising.  With  seven  million 
cattle  they  import  most  of  their  milk  and  butter;  there  has  been  too 
much  sameness  of  production ;  the  climate  invites  to  ease  and  repose, 
and  the  people  are  too'  contented.  A  man  with  ten  thousand  cattle 
upon  the  range,  is  content  to  live  on  corn-bread  and  boiled  beef,  sit 
on  a  hickory  "shakeup"  chair,  sleep  on  shucks,  live  in  a  board  or 
log  "shantie,"  chew  "home-made"  tobacco,  and  spit  through  the 
cracks. 

"An  undeveloped  empire,"  hackneyed  comparison  for  the  West,  is 
literal  truth  applied  to  Texas.  In  1850  the  population  was  only 
212,592;  in  1860  it  was  604,215;  in  1870  it  was  returned  at  818,579, 
and  at  1,592,574  by  the  last  census.  And  even  now  an  area  nearly 
three  times  as  large  as  Ohio,  with  an  equal  average  of  fertility,  and 
climate  suitable  for  corn,  cotton,  tobacco,  and  a  dozen  kinds  of  fruit,  is 
literally  begging  for  inhabitants. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

KANSAS   REVISITED. 

IN  August,  1873,  I  took  a  flying  tour  through  the  new  counties  in 
Southern  Kansas.  It  was  the  year  of  Grangers,  land  leaguers  and 
war  on  the  railroads.  Kansas  had  been,  in  the  expressive  language 
of  the  border,  "railroaded  to  death."  More  lines  had  been  con- 
structed than  the  business  of  the  country  would  demand  for  ten  or 
twenty  years  to  come.  Except  perhaps  the  one  through  line,  none 
of  the  roads  were  paying  more  than  running  expenses.  The  mana- 
gers made  out  to  pay  their  own  salaries  by  the  sale  of  lands  granted 
the  roads  by  State  or  Nation.  The  capital  invested  in  the  roads  was 
a  dead  loss,  as  far  as  present  dividends  were  concerned.  But  stock- 
holders insisted  on  some  returns,  and  the  managers  attempted  to 
squeeze  out  a  few  dollars  by  cutting  down  their  employes  on  one 
side  and  raising  freights  on  the  other.  It  took  three  bushels  of 
corn  to  send  one  to  the  sea-board;  hence  grain  worth  sixty  cents  in 
New  York,  sold  for  fifteen  cents  in  Kansas.  The  premonitory 
symptoms  of  the  approaching  panic  were  every-where  manifest;  but 
the  Grangers,  feeling  that  something  was  wrong,  struck  at  the  nearest 
object — the  railroads. 

It  was  a  vain  struggle.  Where  the  roads  were  making  nothing, 
it  was  obviously  impossible  for  them  to  divide  profits  with  the  pro- 
ducers. On  the  fertile  plains  of  South-eastern  Kansas,  one  man  with 
a  "walking  cultivator"  could  attend  to  forty  acres  of  corn,  which 
yielded  in  an  average  season  from  forty  to  eighty  bushels  per  acre. 
One  man,  between  the  middle  of  April  and  the  middle  of  August, 
could  produce  from  fifteen  hundred  to  forty-five  hundred  bushels  of 
corn ;  but  in  the  midst  of  abundance  they  were  poor  in  all  save  the 
bare  necessaries  of  life.  "Droughty  Kansas"  was  a  standing  joke. 
On  the  eastern  border  of  that  area  which  the  old  geographers  called 
the  "American  Desert,"  corn  was  a  drug;  and  flaming  agricultural 
reports  were  headed  with  sarcastic  pictures  of  mammoth  pumpkins, 
fat  cattle,  and  forests  of  corn-stalks  to  which  the  farmer  ascended  by 
step-ladders  to  secure  his  crop.  But  the  seven  years  of  plenty  ended 
with  1873.  Eighteen  months  after,  corn  in  the  same  localities  was 

(432, 


KANSAS  REVISITED. 


433 


"DROUGHTY  KANSAS." 


worth  a  dollar  a  bushel.  The  dry  year  of  1874  brought  with  it 
grasshoppers,  cut-worms  and  chintz-bugs;  and  in  the  period  between 
that  and  the  plentiful  crop  of  1875,  the  settlers  suffered,  as  they 
thought,  enough  for  seven  years  of  want.  Is  this  to  be  the  future  of 
Kansas?  Must  she  have  every  fifth  or  seventh  year  a  season  of 
drought  and  barren- 
ness? Well,  yes;  and 
no !  On  the  one  hand 
I  am  convinced  that 
all  the  States  which 
border  on  the  dry 
plains  will  have  occa- 
sional seasons  of  ex- 
treme drought;  on  the 
other,  I  am  sure  settle- 
ment will  be  followed 
by  a  modification  of 
the  climate,  and  that 
as  the  country  grows 
older  the  citizens  will 
learn  how  to  guard 
against  famine  years.  Their  true  remedy  is  not  a  war  on  the  rail- 
roads, but  diversification  of  crops,  the  establishment  of  home  manu- 
factures, and,  above  all,  improved  methods  of  stock-breeding.  Kan- 
sas is  emphatically  a  "stock  country."  I  am  afraid  to  say  how 
much  margin  there  is  for  skillful  men;  but  I  personally  know  stock- 
growers  who  have  made  from  thirty  to  sixty  per  cent  yearly  on  their 
capital  for  many  years  in  succession.  Cattle  fatten  upon  the  open 
prairie  for  seven  months  in  the  year,  and  sheep  a  month  longer. 
First  rate  prairie  hay,  on  which  stock  will  keep  fat  all  winter,  can 
be  put  up  for  two  dollars  per  ton.  The  climate  is  dry  in  winter, 
very  suitable  for  cattle  and  especially  so  for  sheep;  and  there  have 
never  been  grasshoppers  enough  to  spoil  the  pasture.  What  matters 
it,  then,  if  the  grain  crop  does  fail  every  fifth  year,  when  the  other 
years  are  so  productive?  What  is  needed  is  improved  stock,  and  a 
little  care  to  guard  against  the  occasional  winter  storms. 

Kansas  has  woman-suffrage  on  a  small  scale.  Women  can  vote  at 
all  school  meetings ;  and  at  Geneva,  in  Allen  County,  I  found  the 
community  wrestling  with  school  -politics  in  a  new  phase.  The  am- 
bitious little  "  city  "  had  started  off  with  an  academy,  which  was  in 

due  time  to  grow  into  a  college;  but,  instead,  it  grew  the  other  wav, 

28 


434  WESTERN   WILDS. 

and  was  reduced  to  a  graded  school.  This  called  for  a  reorganiza- 
tion of  an  adjoining  district;  local  questions  entered  into  the  con- 
test, and  party  feeling  ran  high.  The  men-  and  women  assembled1  on 
the  day  appointed  for  a  school  election ;  the  women  got  to  quarreling, 
and  that,  of  course,  drew  in  the  men.  One  little  man  was  badly  in- 
sulted, upon  which  his  large  and  brawny  wife  rushed  in  with  an  em- 
phatic statement  that  "  her  Benny  should  not  be  imposed  on."  It  is 
hinted  by  local  chroniclers  that  hard  names,  "cuss  words,"  stove- 
wood  and  other  missiles  flew  about  with  disgusting  recklessness. 
The  election  was  set  aside  for  fraud,  and  the  question  at  issue  went 
to  the  courts  for  settlement.  "The  ameliorating  influence  of  women 
at  the  polls"  was  not  apparent  in  that  township. 

Thence  southward  into  Neosho  County,  we  found  the  fertile  vales 
every-where  dark  green  with  dense  masses  of  corn.  Soon  after  cross- 
ing the  line  it  was  evident  we  were  in  a  county  where  the  "herd 
law"  prevailed.  No  fences  were  seen  around  the  corn-fields;  but 
neither  were  there  any  large  herds  of  cattle  feeding  on  the  slopes. 
The  Legislature  has  cantoned  out  the  law-making  power;  each 
county  has  the  right  to  adopt  or  reject  the  "herd  law"  for  itself. 
Many  and  hot  are  the  resulting  contests.  In  counties  where  the  cat- 
tle interest  is  strongest  the  law  is  defeated,  and  cultivators  must 
fence  in  their  crops;  elsewhere  the  cultivated  fields  have  no  fences, 
but  stock  are  fenced  in  or  herded  by  the  boys.  The  agriculturists 
state,  with  some  point,  that  they  are  not  at  all  afraid  their  corn  will 
encroach  on  the  cattle;  the  latter  must  be  guarded  by  their  owners. 
Through  these  counties  one  often  sees  the  poor  calves  tied  to  the  fence, 
while  their  bovine  mammas  are  driven  to  distant  ridges  for  the  day. 
And,  by  the  way,  it  was  a  calf  thus  tied,  abandoned  and  dead  for 
want  of  water,  which  first  showed  that  the  notorious  Benders  had 
fled. 

Our  party  of  four  visited  the  Bender  farm  while  yet  the  country 
was  ringing  with  the  story  of  their  crimes.  Taking  an  open  hack  at 
Cherryvale,  Montgomery  County,  we  drove  seven  miles  north-east 
over  as  beautiful  a  prairie  as  God  ever  adorned  or  man  defiled.  At 
that  distance  out  we  descended  by  a  gentle  slope  to  Murderer's  Vale. 
On  the  north  and  east  rose  those  picturesque  mounds  which  so  ro- 
mantically diversify  this  region;  to  the  south  and  west  the  fertile 
prairie,  now  dotted  with  cultivated  fields,  or  brilliant  with  rank 
grass  and  flowers,  spread  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach;  between 
was  a  slight  depression  of  perhaps  two  square  miles,  from  which  a 
little  run  put  out  north-east,  and  in  the  center  of  this  happy  valley 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  435 

was  the  Bender  farm.  If  the  spirit  of  murder  was  there,  it  was  cer- 
tainly the  loveliest  form  in  which  that  dread  spirit  ever  stood  re- 
vealed. No  black  and  blasted  heath,  no  dark  wood  or  lonely  gorge, 
such  as  romance  makes  the  mute  accessories  of  horrid  crime ;  but  the 
billowy  prairie,  rising  swell  on  swell,  as  if  the  undulating  ocean, 
changed  to  firm  set  earth,  stood  fixed  and  motionless  forever.  The 
house  had  stood  in  the  center  of  this  vale,  two  miles  from  the  nearest 
neighbor,  and  commanding  a  view  of  all  approaches  for  that  distance. 
But  a  few  weeks  had  passed  since  the  murders  were  discovered,  and  yet 
scarcely  a  vestige  of  house  or  stable  was  left.  Visitors  had  carried 
them  away  by  splinters!  Even  the  young  trees  in  the  orchard  had 
been  dug  up  and  removed. 

The  excavation  beneath  the  house,  in  which  the  murderers  had  al- 
lowed their  victims  to  bleed  before  burial,  still  bore  the  horrid  signs. 
The  scant  rains  of  summer  had  not  washed  away  the  blood  from  its 
margin ;  it  was  half  full  of  purple  water.  In  the  garden  the  graves 
remained  just  as  left  when  the  bodies  were  removed.  Eight  bodies 
were  found  there,  including  that  of  a  girl  eight  years  old,  who  was 
murdered  and  buried  with  her  father.  They  had  been  buried  in  all 
sorts  of  positions.  One  man,  in  a  round  hole,  lay  with  his  head  di- 
rectly between  his  feet.  A  Mr.  Longcor,  one  of  the  victims,  lay  with 
his  little  daughter  between  his  limbs.  Besides  these  eight,  three 
other  missing  men  were  traced  to  the  neighborhood,  bringing  the 
whole  number  of  victims  up  to  eleven.  Other  murders  have  excited 
the  community,  but  none  with  such  circumstances  of  barbarity  as 
these.  It  appeared,  from  an  examination  of  the  house  (the  Benders 
kept  a  sort  of  hotel),  that  the  victim,  when  seated  at  the  table,  had 
his  back  against  a  loose  curtain  which  separated  the  room  in  two 
apartments.  Behind  this  curtain  stood  the  murderer,  and,  at  a  con- 
venient moment,  dealt  the  unsuspecting  guest  a  deadly  blow  in  the 
back  of  the  head  with  a  huge  hammer.  He  fell  back,  the  trap-door 
was  raised,  his  throat  was  cut,  and  he  was  tumbled  into  the  pit  to  lie 
till  the  last  drop  of  gore  had  ebbed  away.  Thence  he,  was  taken  at 
night  and  buried  in  the  garden.  And  these  fiends  incarnate,  after 
this  fearful  violation  of  the  rites  of  hospitality  and  the  laws  of  God 
and  man,  went  on  with  their  daily  life— '-ate  and  drank  and  slept,  and 
perhaps  rejoiced  and  made  merry,  with  that  dreadful  pool,  fast  filling 
with  the  blood  of  their  victims,  just  beneath  their  feet. 

The  nearest  neighbor  was  a  •German,  named  Brockman,  who  was 
roughly  treated  and  narrowly  escaped  hanging  by  the  mob  when  the 
murders  were  first  discovered.  His  account  of  the  family  is  curious 


436  WESTERN  WILDS. 

in  the  extreme,  though  many  of  the  details  are  unfit  for  publication. 
The  Benders,  consisting  of  John  Bender,  Sr.,  his  son  John  and  daugh- 
ter Kate,  and  their  mother,  were  from  the  Franco-German  portion  of 
Alsace,  and  spoke  both  languages  fluently,  as  also  the  English.  They 
had  formerly  lived  in  Illinois,  but  came  to  Kansas  in  1870,  and 
boarded  some  time  with  Brockman;  then  made  entry  on  this  piece  of 
land.  They  were  fanatical  spiritualists,  and  Kate  Bender  advertised 
as  a  clairvoyant  and  healing  medium.  The  young  man,  her  brother, 
who  distributed  her  hand-bills  around  the  country,  was  generally  re- 
garded as  a  simpleton ;  his  mother  also  seemed  very  dull,  and  rarely 
spoke.  But  Kate  was  the  genius  of  the  family.  She  stated,  in  her 
moments  of  "exaltation,"  that  she  was  a  "savior  come  again,  but  in 
female  form ;"  that  she  could  raise  the  dead,  but  it  would  be  wrong 
to  do  so.  She  had  a  "familiar  spirit"  which  Directed  all  the  move- 
ments of  the  family  ;  and  several  persons  visited  and  consulted  her, 
either  from  curiosity  or  other  motive.  Before  burial  they  mutilated 
the  victims  in  an  obscene  and  disgusting  manner.  So  thoroughly  was 
this  done  that  when  the  body  of  Longcor  was  raised  it  was  at  first 
supposed  to  be  that  of  a  woman.  The  excised  portions  of  none  of  the 
bodies  were  ever  found,  though  the  ground  was  thoroughly  searched ; 
and  among  the  few  neighbors  who  knew  any  thing  of  the  family's  blas- 
phemous incantations,  there  are  dark  and  horrible  hints  as  to  the  dis- 
position made  of  these  pieces.  Should  we  accept  the  half  that  is  told 
by  the  neighbors,  we  must  conclude  that  this  was  a  family  in  whom 
every  natural  impulse  had  been  imbruted  ;  that  they  believed  them- 
selves in  league  with  powers  to  whom  they  offered  infernal  sacrifices, 
and  murdered  for  mere  lust  of  blood.  It  is  known  that,  with  one  ex- 
ception, the  victims  had  very  little  money,  and  that  their  spoils  did 
not  altogether  exceed  $2,500.  One  man  was  known  to  have  had 
but  twenty-five  cents. 

The  escape  of  the  Benders  was  long  a  great  mystery.  That  a  fam- 
ily of  four  persons  could  drive  to  the  nearest  railroad  station,  abandon 
their  team  there,  take  the  train  and  escape  all  the  officers  and  detect- 
ives set  upon  their  track,  was  incredible.  Nevertheless,  that  was  the 
report  of  the  local  officials,  and  the  State  of  Kansas,  apparently,  made 
great  exertions  to  recapture  the  fugitives.  "Old  Man  Bender"  became 
a  standing  joke  ;  every  old  vagabond  in  the  country  was  suspected, 
numbers  were  arrested,  and  the  Utah  authorities  actually  sent  a  harmless 
old  lunatic,  captured  in  the  mountains,  back  to  Kansas  for  identifica- 
tion. But  it  was  noticed  that  Kansas  officials  were  rather  indifferent 
on  the  subject,  and  in  due  time  some  of  the  facts  leaked  out.  There 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  437 

have  been  sensational  stories  about  the  posse  overtaking  the  fugitives 
in  the  groves  west  of  the  Verdigris  River,  where  a  desperate  fight  took 
place,  in  which  both  the  women  were  "  accidentally  killed."  Without 
going  into  particulars,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  the  Bender  family  "  ceased 
to  breathe  "  soon  after  their  flight,  and  that  their  carcasses  rotted  be- 
neath the  soil  of  the  State  so  scandalized  by  their  crimes. 

A  few  miles  southward  bring  us  to  Cofieyville,  terminus  of  the 
Leavenworth,  Lawrence  &  Galveston  Railroad,  which  was  to  have 
continued  on  to  the  gulf,  had  not  the  Cherokecs  objected.  By  the 
"  Treaty  of  1866,"  which  settled  the  present  status  of  these  tribes,  they 
consented  that  two  railroads  might  traverse  the  Indian  Territory,  and 
Congress  enacted  that  those  roads  which  first  reached  the  border 
should  have  that  right.  A  race  ensued,  and  the  privilege  was  won  by 
the  Atlantic  &  Pacific  Road,  which  enters  from  the  east,  and  the  Mis- 
souri, Kansas  &  Texas  from  the  north.  Coifeyville  is  the  great  cattle 
depot  of  this  section.  For  the  five  months  of  cold  weather  the  laws 
of  Kansas  allow  Texas  cattle  to  be  driven  through  the  State ;  there- 
after they  must  stop  at  the  border,  or  be  shipped  through  by  rail. 
None  are  sent  either  way  in  midsummer,  and  thus  it  results  that  Cof- 
feyville  and  its  neighbor,  Parker,  have  one  busy  season  in  the  spring 
and  another  in  the  fall.  The  rest  of  the  year  they  are  dull,  for  border 
towns ;  and,  in  the  language  of  one  of  our  party,  "  lie  fourteen  miles 
outside  of  the  knowledge  of  God." 

A  half-hour's  ride  from  Coffeyville  brought  us  to  the  border,  and 
thence  into  a  rolling  plain  dotted  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see  with  vast 
herds  of  cattle — herds  numbering  from  a  hundred  to  ten  thousand 
each.  It  was  a  grand  sight.  Some  were  stretched  in  long  lines, 
feeding  in  one  direction,  or  grouped  in  the  shape  of  a  crescent ;  others 
had  collected  in  a  dense  mass,  their  reddish  brown  coats  harmonizing 
finely  with  the  hue  of  the  prairie,  and  their  immense  horns  looking 
not  unlike  a  thicket  of  dead  underbrush.  The  cattle  men  have  here 
rented  from  the  Cherokees  a  strip  fifteen  miles  wide,  and  collect  their 
stock  there,  waiting  for  the  shipping  season.  These  cattle,  having 
run  wild  upon  the  plains  of  western  Texas,  are  collected  by  a  grand 
t(  round-up  ;"  from  the  mass  each  owner  selects  those  bearing  his  own 
mark,  and  thence  they  set  out  on  the  long  drive  northward  through 
the  Indian  Territory,  along  the  famous  cattle  trails.  Utterly  unac- 
customed to  being  herded  or  penned,  they  are  almost  as  wild  as  the 
buffalo ;  it  requires  both  skill  and  daring  to  herd  and  drive  them,  and 
the  Texan  vacquero  is  necessarily  a  daring  horseman.  The  same  treat- 
ment which  breaks  the  wild  spirit  of  the  cattle  not  unfrequently  en- 


438  WESTERN   WILDS. 

genders  disease;  the  tramp  of  from  three  to  eight  hundred  miles  to 
the  border  causes  "  heating  of  the  hoof/'  and  the  poisonous  matter  ex- 
uding therefrom  is  left  upon  the  grass.  Hence,  say  the  Kansians,  the 
"Texas  cattle  fever."  The  Texan  animals  themselves  do  not  suffer 
from  it ;  native  cattle  alone,  who  feed  after  them,  are  infected  by  it. 
In  the  early  days  the  Kansas  Legislature  set  apart  the  width  of  one 
township,  a  strip  six  miles  wide,  along  which  Texans  might  be  driven 
to  the  Pacific  Railroad.  But  in  a  little  while  settlements  reached  this 
strip,  and  another  was  located,  terminating  at  Ellsworth,  which  be- 
came for  awhile  the  great  cattle  depot.  Again  the  wave  of  settlement 
reached  and  overflowed  this  strip,  and  a  third  was  located,  with  depot 
at  Wichita,  on  the  Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe  Road.  And  here  is 
noted  a  marvel  indeed.  As  the  border  line  of  settlements  steadily  moves 
westward,  as  domestic  stock  overrun  the  country,  as  fields  are  plowed 
and  orchards  planted,  the  settlers  say  the  border  line  between  the  soft 
grass  of  the  Missouri  Valley  and  the  buffalo  grass  of  the  plains,  moves 
westward  at  the  rate  of  five  miles  per  year !  It  is  common  testimony 
there  that,  as  the  country  is  settled,  the  climate  grows  more  moist; 
that  timothy  and  blue-grass  can  now  be  grown  where  twenty  years 
ago  only  the  hardy  bunch-grass  found  a  footing,  and  wheat  on  the 
high  plains  which  were  once  thought  utterly  barren.  From  Cherry- 
vale  a  branch  railway  runs  out  to  Independence,  the  bustling  capital 
of  Montgomery  County,  which  claims  three  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
has  at  least  two-thirds  as  many.  Five  years  before,  a  mowing  ma- 
chine was  run  over  the  ground  to  clear  away  the  rank  grass,  and  after 
it  came  the  surveyors,  mapping  out  the  experimental  town ;  in  two 
years  thereafter  it  had  a  thousand  inhabitants,  and  was  "the  future 
metropolis  of  the  South-west."  I  found  it  just  entering  on  the  dull 
times  which  have  ruined  so  many  bright  hopes.  The  second  day  of 
my  stay  the  Republicans  had  a  grand  mass  meeting,  "  to  devise  means 
of  relief  from  the  prevailing  depression  and  the  difficulties  under 
which  Kansas  labored."  A  foreign  visitor  would  have  thought  him- 
self in  a  community  of  natural  orators.  The  speakers  were  lawyers, 
doctors,  farmers,  cattle-breeders,  men  of  all  trades  and  men  of  none ; 
all  spoke  with  ability,  and  no  two  suggested  the  same  plan.  It  was  a 
meeting  of  pleasant  diversity — one  of  the  most  enjoyable  I  ever  at- 
tended. One  speaker  was  red  hot  for  free  trade — "  all  our  troubles 
resulted  from  our  wretched  tariff."  Another  protested  against  any 
further  contraction  of  the  currency,  and  still  another  damned  the  rail- 
roads and  Eastern  monopolists.  The  Congressman  representing  the 
district  was  present,  and  suggested  two  measures  of  relief:  jetties  at 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  439 

the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  so  that  grain  could  be  shipped  that  way 
direct  to  Europe,  and  opening  the  Indian  Territory  so  the  railroad 
could  continue  on  to  the  gulf  and  afford  an  outlet.  [Loud  and  pro- 
longed cheers.]  Several  were  emphatic  that  we  should  have  "more 
greenbacks ;"  for,  said  one  speaker,  "  we  have  millions  of  corn  and 
no  hogs  to  feed  it  to — we  need  more  money  to  buy  stock!" 

This  region  is  part  of  the  Osage  Diminished  Reserve,  so-called ;  and 
the  unreasonable  savages  persisted  in  holding  on  to  it  long  after  the 
white  man  wanted  it.  Unlike  all  other  Kansas  Indians  the  Osages  are 
indigenous,  from  the  Osage  River  in  Missouri  to  the  Arkansas:  this 
is  their  original  seat,  and  they  stubbornly  resisted  all  offers  of  sale. 
As  soon  as  it  was  known  that  Government  was  pressing  them  to  sell, 
the  whites  poured  in,  and  in  four  years  had  taken  all  the  good  land  in 
Montgomery  County,  before  the  Indian  title  was  extinguished.  This 
cut  out  the  railroad  companies,  and  gave  rise  to  no  end  of  quarrels 
and  lawsuits.  The  Osages  persist  in  all  their  aboriginal  habits.  The 
example  of  their  civilized  kinsmen  in  Oklahoma,  the  teaching  of 
Catholic  priests  at  the  mission  long  before  the  whites  settled  here, 
the  persuasions  of  agents  and  the  gifts  of  the  Government  were  alike 
unavailing.  Now  and  then  a  chief  wanders  through  the  settlements, 
half-clad  in  the  grotesque  finery  received  as  annuity  goods,  and  with 
a  medal  on  his  breast  to  show  that  he  has  signed  a  treaty  or  done 
some  other  service  to  the  Government,  and  perhaps  a  dirty  scrap  of 
paper  to  back  up  his  assertion  that  he  is  "  Good  Osage — heap  good 
Injun."  His  errand  generally  is  for  old  clothes  and  "cold  grub;" 
and  if  a  little  whisky  be  added,  the  donor  can  have  a  war  dance  im- 
provised for  his  special  benefit.  Occasionally  a  begging  Indian  re- 
ceives a  "  certificate  "  from  some  wag,  which  is  not  so  favorable.  One 
such,  which  the  bearer  proudly  presented  me,  ran  thus: 

"  To  whom  it  may  concern: 

"  The  name  of  this  noble  red  man  is  Hunkydori.  He  is  of  poor  but  pious  parents. 
What  he  would  n't  steal  a  hound  pup  would  n't  pull  out  of  a  tan-yard.  Red-hot  stoves  are 
supposed  to  be  safe  in  his  presence.  Give  him  some  cold  grub,  or  a  three  cent  drink,  if 
you  have  any  about  you. 

"Rev.  Robert  Collyer. 
"  Gen.  O.  O.  Howard." 

From  Independence  I  took  horse  northward,  across  the  sluggish 
Elk  River,  and  into  Wilson  County.  This  stream  looks  sluggish 
enough  now,  but  it  often  gets  up  in  a  destructive  fashion.  Already 
eleven  persons  have  been  drowned  in  this  vicinity.  A  few  rods  be- 
low the  ford  is  a  deep  pool,  visible  enough  now  when  the  water  on  the 


440 


WESTERN    WILDS. 


ripple  is  but  two  inches  deep;  but  the  winter  before  two  lovers  met 
their  death  here.  They  were  to  have  been  married  in  a  week,  and 

were  on  a  visit  to 
friends  when  a 
heavy  rain  came 
on.  Hurrying  to 
return  before  the 
stream  should 
rise,  they  unfort- 
unately went  too 
far  down  stream ; 
the  buggy  was 
swept  into  the 
pool,  and  a  little 
below  overturned 
in  the  floating 
brush.  The 
drowned  lovers 
were  found  next 
day,  two  miles 
below,  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms. 
Neodesha,  cap- 
ital  of  Wilson 
County,  was 
named  by  a  com- 
mittee of  local 
philologists,  ap- 
pointed by  the 
first  settlers.  The 
latter  resolved: 
first,  they  would 
have  an  express- 
ive Indian  name ; 
second,  they 
would  h  ave  a 
name  which  no 

city,  man,  or  country  had  ever  been  called  by.  Thus  limited,  the 
committee  took  the  Osage  words  (pro.  Ne-o-de-sAm/)  meaning,  "meet- 
ing of  the  waters,"  as  the  town  was  upon  the  point  .between  the 
Fall  and  Verdigris  rivers.  Wilson  is  another  cattle  county.  The 


1  GOOD  OSAGE— HEAP  GOOD  INJUN  ! 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  441 

fields  are  fenced  in,  the  stock  fenced  out;  and  the  aristocracy  of  Ne- 
odesha  are  the  cattle  men.  Near  here  a  Mrs.  Vickars  and  her 
daughters  had  produced  a  fair  crop  of  cotton  from  a  small  patch ;  had 
carded  and  spun  it  with  their  own  hands,  and  were  knitting  it  into  va- 
rious articles.  It  is  safe  to  say  the  Vickars  family  will  get  through 
the  "  hard  times"  without  suffering. 

Westward  from  Neodesha  I  found  the  country  rising  more  and 
more  into  ridges.  The  first  creek  I  crossed  by  a  deep  ford,  though  an 
elegant  bridge  stood  not  far  above,  the  way  to  it  being  fenced  up.  It 
appears  that  Neodesha  had  erected  this  bridge  at  considerable  expense, 
only  to  find  that  the  road  in  common  use  ran  a  few  rods  north  of  the 
section  line.  The  mulish  owner  of  the  land  fenced  it  in,  and  obsti- 
nately refused  the  right  of  way,  or  to  sell  at  any  reasonable  price ; 
and  so  Neodesha  had  an  elegant  bridge  which  she  could  not  use. 
Continuing  my  journey  south  and  west,  I  saw  that  I  was  drawing  near 
the  great  "divide"  between  the  waters  flowing  into  the  Neosho  and 
those  flowing  into  the  Arkansas.  Nearly  .half  the  country  consists  of 
sharp  ridges,  on  which  the  land  is  generally  fit  only  for  pasturage. 
The  narrow  valleys  between  are  very  fertile,  but  as  a  rule  every 
quarter  section  of  land  takes  in  some  ridge  ;  hence  the  settler's  farm 
runs  into  the  ridges  on  at  least  two  corners.  By  and  by  I  come  upon 
two  old  acquaintances — prickly  cactus  and  desert  weed — sure  indica- 
tions that  I  am  nearing  a  barren  strip.  Elk  River  has  a  wider 
valley  ;  the  land  is  again  fertile,  and  the  heavy  fields  of  corn  show 
good  cultivation.  Westward  I  rise  again  to  flinty  hills,  and  am  soon 
upon  The  Ridge,  so-called,  the  highest  point  between  the  two  rivers. 
Overlooking  a  section  twenty  miles  square,  I  see  that  about  one-third 
of  it  is  taken  up  by  these  ridges  of  rock  and  gravel,  while  the  inter- 
mediate vales  are  of  great  fertility.  The  hollows  breaking  out  of  the 
ridge  each  way  are  thick  set  with  dense  scrubby  timber,  in  which  wild 
cats,  deer,  and  other  game  are  still  abundant. 

Down  the  western  slope  brings  me  to  the  fertile  valley  of  Grouse 
Creek,  and  in  due  time  to  the  village  of  Lazette,  where  I  find  the 
citizens  in  impromptu  convention  in  the  public  square,  watching  the 
process  of  boring  for  cold  water.  Through  all  this  section  the  wells 
are  from  forty  to  a  hundred  feet  deep,  bored  and  piped ;  and  the  water 
is  drawn  in  a  metal  bucket,  half  a  yard  long  and  some  three  inches 
wide,  resembling  a  section  of  a  tin  spout.  A  valve  in  the  bottom 
opens  inward,  and  allows  the  vessel  to  fill;  then  closes  when  the  draw- 
ing up  begins.  The  fluid  is  so  saturated  with  lime  that  it  fairly  rises 
up  and  takes  a  man  by  the  throat.  It  is  such,  "hard  water"  that  one 


442  WESTERN  WILDS. 

can  scarcely  bite  it  off.  Washer-women  have  great  tribulations  in 
such  a  country. 

As  I  near  the  Arkansas,  I  find  the  flint  ridges  narrowing,  the  vales 
between  them  widening,  and  see  from  afar  a  green  strip  of  level  land, 
resembling  the  prairies  of  Southern  Illinois.  But  a  vast  amount  of 
this  land  is  already  in  the  hands  of  speculators.  Uncle  Sam  has 
done  his  best  to  prevent  his  boys  from  swindling  themselves  out  of 
their  patrimony,  but  they  will  do  it.  All  the  old  tricks  are  here  re- 
peated on  a  grander  scale,  and  some  new  ones  added.  Loose-footed 
young  men  erect  a  cabin,  barely  habitable  in  good  weather,  preempt 
and  remain  till  they  get  a  title,  then  sell  to  a  speculator  and  leave; 
and  these  abandoned  "dwellings  "are  seen  dotting  the  vacant  prairie 
in  all  directions.  By  this  operation  the  preemptor  has  a  pleasant  time 
of  it  for  a  year,  raises  a  small  crop  of  "sod  corn,"  and  gets  away  with, 
perhaps,  two  hundred  dollars.  But  I  rejoice  in  the  thought  that  the 
speculator  will  be  fooled  at  last ;  the  land's  increase  in  value  will  be 
less  than  his -money  would  have  brought  at  interest,  and  the  residents 
will  make  him  "  smoke  "  with  high  taxes  on  his  land. 

At  the  new  "  city "  of  Winfield,  situated  in  the  Arkansas  Valley, 
at  the  center  of  a  rich  agricultural  region,  I  passed  a  few  days  of 
pleasant  rest.  It  is  a  cosmopolitan  town.  There  were  buffalo  hunters 
just  returned  from  Harper  and  Comanche  counties,  cattle  men  from 
Texas,  Indian  traders,  and  returned  emigrants  from  the  abandoned 
settlements  on  Medicine  Lodge  Creek.  These  people,  trusting  to  the 
confident  assertions  of  old  citizens,  that  "  there  is  no  desert  in  Kan- 
sas, no  land  too  dry  for  cultivation,"  had  opened  extensive  farms  on 
Medicine  Lodge,  a  little  tributary  of  the  Arkansas.  Every  thing  they 
planted  grew  luxuriantly  till  the  middle  of  June,  then  began  to  wither. 
They  dammed  the  creek  for  irrigation,  but  that  went  dry,  too.  "Just 
appeared  as  if  the  bottom  dropped  out,"  said  one  of  the  settlers — 
"  channel  as  dry  as  a  bone  by  the  first  of  July."  As  yet  it  would  ap- 
pear that  the  south-western  quarter  of  Kansas  is  a  little  too  dry  and 
barren  for  the  farmer. 

Winfield  is  on  White  Walnut  Creek,  a  few  miles  above  its  junction 
with  the  Arkansas;  but  the  level,  fertile  valley  is  here  continuous  be- 
tween the  streams.  Two  years  before  buffalo  could  be  found  in  the 
vicinity  of  town  ;  now  the  nearest  were  fifty  miles  west  of  the  river,  in 
Harper  County.  This,  and  Barbour,  Comanche  and  Clark  counties 
are  broken  in  all  directions  by  deep  gullies  and  wooded  cafions,  the 
favorite  wintering  places  of  the  bison ;  as  long  as  they  could  winter 
there  undisturbed,  summer  found  them  abundant  on  the  high  plains 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  443 

along  the  Arkansas,  Smoky  Hill,  and  Republican.  But  when,  forced 
from  these  sheltered  valleys  by  the  winter  hunters,  the  animals  tried 
to  pass  the  cold  season  on  the  open  plains  northward,  they  froze  and 
starved  by  millions.  The  buffalo  range  is  now  only  one-twelfth  what 
it  was  in  1830,  and  about  one-third  what  it  was  in  1870. 

Mr.  William  Payne,  a  returned  surveyor,  gave  me  a  most  interesting 
account  of  that  part  of  Kansas  south  and  west  of  the  Arkansas.  Un- 
less the  climate  changes  materially,  this  section  must  long  remain  un- 
settled ;  in  any  event  it  can  not  sustain  a  dense  population.  It  is 
high,  dry,  fearfully  cut  up  by  flint  ridges,  and  gored  by  rock-walled 
canons.  Northward,  it  is  more  gently  rolling,  and  along  the  Arkansas 
there  is  good  farming  land  even  to  the  border  of  Colorado.  In  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Payne,  I  journeyed  leisurely  up  Walnut  Creek,  finding 
the  fertile  valley  well  settled  and  cultivated.  To  the  right,  the  land 
rose  into  ridges  and  swells,  where  dwellings  were  rare  indeed ;  this 
was  herding  ground  in  common  for  the  men  of  the  valley.  A  furrow, 
run  through  the  prairie  sod,  constituted  a  "lawful  fence;"  and  the 
herds  were  kept  off"  the  growing  crops  by  boys  and  women.  Here  and 
there  was  to  be  seen  a  horse  hitched  at  the  gate,  with  neat  side-saddle 
tightly  strapped ;  and,  when  the  feeding  cattle  drew  near  the  corn,  a 
tall  and  graceful  Kansas  girl  would  bounce  into  the  saddle,  and  go 
galloping  up  the  slope,  cracking  a  little  whip,  and  calling  out  to  the 
stock  in  musical  English.  We  voted  it  a  pretty  sight,  and  rode  on.  ' 

At  Eldorado,  in  Butler  County,  we  took  another  rest,  in  a  region 
where  the  Kansas  winds  appear  to  have  done  their  perfect  work  on 
the  old  settlers.  The  statement  that  an  old  resident  "  can't  talk  if  the 
wind  stops  blowing,"  is  repelled  as  a  slander ;  but  the  wind,  or  some- 
thing else,  is  certainly  making  rapid  changes  in  the  general  appearance 
of  the  people.  They  are  of  florid  complexion,  leathery  aspect,  and 
"clipper  built"  as  to  limbs.  And  this  sets  me  to  wondering  whether 
the  future  American,  when  our  country  is  all  settled,  and  these  rapid 
changes  of  population  cease,  will  not  fall  into  permanent  types,  on  the 
principle  of  "  natural  selection  and  survival  of  the  fittest."  There 
will,  perhaps,  be  the  Yankee  type  :  the  people  north  and  east  of  Penn- 
sylvania, with  clear  but  ruddy  skin,  rather  lean  in  figure,  somewhat 
severe  in  aspect,  given  to  grim  and  sepulchral  humor,  and  with  that 
traditional  "  blue  stripe  on  the  belly."  Westward  and  southward  this 
race  will  yield  gradually  to  the  blue,  bilious  type,  whose  central  spot 
will  be  Cairo,  Illinois.  They  will  tend  to  the  pale  olive  in  complex- 
ion ;  will  be  somewhat  languid  in  their  loves  and  hates  till  excited, 
and  then  fiercely  but  spasmodically  passionate  ;  they  will  be  darker 


444  WESTERN   WILDS. 

than  their  Eastern  congeners,  and  given  to  stimulating  decoctions. 
West  of  them  will  come  in  the  bold  florid  type,  with  complexion  of  a 
rich  mahogany,  with  wiry  frame,  outline  a  little  too  extended,  and 
eyes  and  hair  of  the  intense  hues.  This  type  will  come  to  perfection 
in  Kansas.  North  of  them  will  be  the  Western  Yankees,  with  less 
strictness  than  their  Eastern  ancestors,  but  more  acquisitiveness.  A 
little  way  southward  will  begin  the  typical  Southerner,  with  charac- 
teristics steadily  exaggerated  as  we  near  the  gulf.  But  in  that  section 
will  be  three  races :  pure  whites,  pure  blacks,  and  the  "  colored." 
Miscegenation  will  pretty  nearly  cease  when  the  late  slaves  get  used  to 
freedom,  and  the  betwixt-and-between  colors  of  the  South  will  settle 
into  a  permanent  type,  without  merging  on  either  side  into  the  pure 
colors.  Why  not?  That  happened  in  Mexico,  after  two  centuries  of 
miscegenation,  and  the  same  causes  will  doubtless  produce  the  same 
effects  here.  In  the  Far  West  we  shall  have  the  mountaineer,  of  a 
type  totally  different  from  all  the  others.  Any  man  can  see,  with  half 
an  eye,  that  nothing  but  extensive  emigration,  and  the  social  mixtures 
resulting  therefrom,  prevent  climatic  laws  from  separating  us  into  dif- 
ferent races.  By  and  by  emigration  must  cease,  and  nature  work  her 
will  upon  us.  What  then  ?  How  can  all  these  diverse  races  be  held 
together,  under  one  democratic  republican  government?  Ah!  that's 
the  conundrum  some  future  generation  must  solve. 

At  Eldorado  we  leave  the  valley  and  journey  over  the  high  and 
unsettled  prairies  to  Florence,  in  Marion  County.  The  route  takes 
me  again  over  the  "  divide  "  between  the  Neosho  and  Arkansas ;  but 
here  it  is  only  a  high  plain  without  any  ve,ry  barren  ridges  as  far- 
ther south.  The  high  land  is  comparatively  unsettled,  and  only  the 
lower  valleys  have  many  cultivated  farms.  It  is  evident  we  are  on 
the  border,  and  pretty  near  the  dry  plains ;  though  the  settlers,  espe- 
cially the  many  real  estate  agents  in  the  few  towns,  insist  that  "  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  the  American  Desert — it's  a  myth — every  section 
of  land  in  Kansas  can  be  cultivated."  Though  there  are  a  thousand  of 
them,  and  but  one  of  me,  I  venture  to  differ  a  very  little.  At  Flor- 
ence I  take  the  eastward  train,  and  am  soon  down  among  the  old 
farms  on  the  rich  plains  of  the  Kaw.  But  before  I  close  my  last 
sketch  of  Kansas,  a  few  general  notes  are  in  order : 

The  State  is  an  immense  parallelogram,  about  twice  as  long  as  wide, 
containing  81,318  square  miles:  ten  times  the  size  of  Massachusetts, 
one-fifth  larger  than  Missouri,  a  little  more  than  twice  the  size  of 
Ohio,  not  quite  three  times  as  big  as  Indiana,  and  exceeding  by  one- 
third  the  area  of  England.  I  divide  it  into  three  sections :  the  east- 


KANSAS  REVISITED.  445 

ern  third  is  as  fertile  as  any  equal  area  in  the  world ;  the  western 
third  has  not  yet  been  proved  to  be  of  much  value  except  for  grazing ; 
the  middle  third  consists  of  both  grazing  and  agricultural  land,  the 
latter  predominating.  Thus  we  have  25,000  square  miles  of  first-class 
farming  land,  as  much  of  mixed  grazing  and  farming  lands,  and  a 
little  more  of  the  region  fit  for  pasturage  only.  The  eastern  border 
of  the  State  has  an  average  elevation  of  some  800  feet  above  the  sea ; 
the  western  from  2,500  to  3,000  feet.  The  eastern  third— 25,000  square 
miles  or  thereabouts — when  settled  as  thickly  as  rural  Ohio,  will  sus- 
tain a  population  of  two  millions;  at  present  it  contains  not  quite 
half  a  million,  "and  there's  room  for  millions  more." 

Of  land  subject  to  preemption  and  homestead  there  is  very  little. 
Nearly  all  the  land  of  value  belongs  to  the  railroads  or  private  owners. 
Some  people  of  my  acquaintance,  who  talk  very  glibly  of  the  immense 
public  domain,  would  be  amazed  to  learn  how  little  good  land  is  still 
at  the  disposal  of  government.  Deducting  diminished  Indian  reserves, 
railroad  grants,  and  lands  long  ago  preempted  and  sold  to  speculators, 
there  is  not  much  left  this  side  of  the  barren  plateaus.  But  the  rail- 
road lands  in  Kansas  can  now  be  bought  at  from  $4  to  $10  per  acre,, 
and  are  generally  located  in  old  counties  where  church,  school  and 
society  have  made  great  progress.  The  railroads,  as  a  rule,  sell  on 
seven  years'  time,  with  interest  at  seven  per  cent,  on  deferred  payments. 

All  the  fruits  and  grains  of  the  temperate  zone  can  be  produced 
in  Kansas,  and  for  some  things  it  seems  specially  suited.  In  small 
fruits,  especially  grapes,  no  State  east  of  California  can  excel  Kansas. 
Wheat  has  not  yet  proved  a  perfect  success  in  southern  Kansas, 
because,  as  I  think,  the  farmers  have  not  experimented  sufficiently. 
They  still  sow  the  same  varieties,  on  the  same  system,  as  in  Ohio. 
In  oats  the  product  is  amazing.  Mr.  A.  Hall,  whose  farm  is  at  the 
junction  of  Deer  Creek  and  Neosho  River,  in  1870  harvested  seventy 
bushels  per  acre  from  a  large  area  ;  and  J.  C.  Clark,  on  the  upland, 
near  lola,  took  four  thousand  bushels  from  sixty-five  acres.  Of 
ground  crops  all  kinds  grown  in  Ohio  flourish  exceedingly  on  this 
virgin  soil,  potatoes  and  turnips  especially.  Vines  of  all  kinds  do 
well;  all  sorts  of  melons  attain  a  size  and  perfection  of  flavor  unsur- 
passed in  this  latitude.  Peaches  are  a  sure  crop  at  least  three  years 
out  of  four.  Apples,  for  a  new  country,  are  about  average.  But  the 
most  money  is  made  on  cattle  and  sheep.  The  country  is  generally 
well  watered;  there  is  still  abundant  range  on  the  open  prairie,  and 
enough  of  sheltered  and  wooded  hollows.  And  in  this  respect  the 
settlers  west  of  the  Verdigris  think  they  have  a  great  advantage,  as 


446  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  ridges  will  not  be  settled  and  fenced  in  for  a  century ;  they  will 
remain  common  herding  ground  for  many  years. 

West  of  the  Arkansas,  and  in  the  north-west  part  of  the  State,  the 
hunter  and  herdsman  will  have  free  range  for  generations.  Part  of 
the  country  is  completely  barren,  but  most  of  it  produces  the  nutri- 
tious bunch-grass,  gama-grass,  and  buffalo-grass.  The  topography  is 
the  result  of  the  two  geologic  processes — erosion  and  drift.  The  first 
great  upheaval  evidently  created  mountain  heights  twice  or  three  times 
as  high  as  any  now  on  the  globe.  These  have  worn  down  to  the 
present  Rocky  Mountains;  and  from  that  wearing  came  the  material 
constituting  the  "plains."  Near  the  center  of  Eastern  Colorado  a 
great  spur  of  the  mountains  puts  out  eastward,  known  as  the  "  Divide," 
and  continues,  gradually  lessening  in  height,  far  down  into  Kansas. 
This,  and  all  the  adjoining  slopes,  are  composed  of  rounded  stones, 
pebbles,  and  sand,  the  washings  of  ages ;  and  over  and  among  them 
there  is  just  soil  enough  to  produce  hardy  grass,  but  not  enough  for 
good  farming  land,  unless  upon  the  lower  slopes  and  valleys. 

Kansas  is  not  paradise ;  but  it  presents  many  advantages.  There  is 
no  section  of  the  West  where — 

" Grain  and  flour  and  fruit 


Gush  from  the  earth  until  the  land  runs  o'er." 

But  there  is  abundant  room  in  this  State  for  half  a  million  families, 
in  localities  where  one  has  room  to  grow,  where  the  laws  are  pecu- 
liarly favorable  to  beginners,  where  society  is  well  organized,  where 
labor  will  surely  result  in  a  competence,  and  all  who  will  be  virtuous 
may  be  happy. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

COLOKADO. 

THE  summer  of  1874  found  me  once  more  engaged  in  mining  oper- 
ations on  a  small  scale — this  time  in  Colorado.  The  first  of  June  I 
set  out  hastily  from  Saint  Louis  for  the  mountains,  anticipating  great 
enjoyment  in  the  journey  across  the  plains.  But  the  change  in  two 
years  had  been  wonderful;  where  we  saw  buffalo  in  May,  1872,  by 
uncounted  thousands,  we  now  looked  in  vain.  Save  the  grizzled  and 
miserable  looking  captives  in  the  station  corrals^and  rarely  a  worn  out 
old  fellow  in  some  hollow,  not  a  buffalo  is  now  to  be  seen  on  the  Kan- 
sas Pacific,  where  only  seven  years  ago  they  actually  obstructed  the 
track  in  places. 

Within  the  memory  of  men  still  living  these  animals  ranged  as  far 
east  as  the  Osage  in  Missouri;  once  they  inhabited  nearly  all  that  part 
of  our  country  east  of  the  Great  Basin.  Gov.  Thomas  L.  Young,  of 
Ohio,  relates  that  when  his  party  crossed  the  plains  in  1854,  they  saw 
a  herd  in  the  Platte  Valley  fourteen  miles  long  and  two  or  three  miles 
wide;  and  Horace  Greeley  vouches  for  herds  almost  as  extensive, 
which,  he  says,  could  only  be  estimated  by  millions.  Such  immense 
aggregations  are  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  tendency  of  these 
animals  to  mass  together  while  crossing  streams  in  their  migration. 
At  the  old  Platte  crossing  emigrants  were  often  hindered  for  days  by 
the  buffalo  moving  northward.  As  late  as  1865  their  range  was  three 
hundred  miles  wide,  and  from  the  Saskatchewan  to  the  Rio  Grande. 
Now  they  are  limited  to  two  small  sections:  the  first  includes  north- 
western and  western  Texas  and  Indian  Territory,  with  adjacent  por- 
tions of  Kansas,  New  Mexico  and  Colorado ;  the  latter  a  small  section 
of  western  Dakota  and  the  adjacent  region.  At  present  rates  only 
twenty  more  years  are  needed  for  their  extermination.  Millions  have 
been  slaughtered  for  their  hides  and  tongues  alone;  millions  more  in 
cruel  wantonness,  miscalled  "  sport."  Other  millions  died  in  the  severe 
winter  of  1871-'72,  their  range  in  the  sheltered  valleys  being  re- 
stricted; and  a  year  after  long  trains  of  box-cars  were  loaded  with 
their  bones,  which  the  poverty-stricken  Kansians  gathered  and 
shipped  eastward.  So  disappears  the  noblest  of  our  wild  game. 


448  WESTERN  WILDS. 

The  tourist  who  would  see  a  buffalo  in  his  natural  state  must  not 
long  delay. 

Denver  had  wonderfully  improved  within  two  years;  but  the 
chronic  "  hard  times  "  had  visited  it  with  fearful  severity.  There  had 
been  a  decline  in  real  estate  of  at  least  forty  per  cent.,  and  not  long 
after  a  still  further  decline  occurred.  The  excursionists  from  the  East 
were  sixty  per  cent,  less  numerous  than  in  1873.  Watering  places  lan- 
guished and  hotel-keepers  looked  sick.  But  if  there  is  trade  in  Col- 
orado, Denver  must  take  toll  therefrom:  for  it  has  the  location. 
Take  half  a  wagon-wheel ;  imagine  each  of  the  spokes  a  pass,  leading 
up  south-west  or  north-west,  through  the  mountains  to  some  mining 
region,  and  you  will  have  a  tolerable  idea  of  Denver  and  its  tribu- 
taries. From  this  place  as  a  center,  railroads  or  first-class  turnpikes 
lead  up  to  Georgetown,  Central  City,  Blackhawk,  Boulder,  Leadville, 
and  a  dozen  mountain  towns  of  less  note. 

The  city  is  on  the  slope  at  the  junction  of  Cherry  Creek  and  the 
Platte  River.  Both  are  mere  rivulets  usually,  but  they  occasionally 
get  up  in  a  way  that's  rather  frightful.  In  1864  a  freshet  took  away 
nearly  all  the  town  as  it  then  stood,  and  the  people  afterwards  built 
a  little  farther  up  the  slope.  The  city  was  on  first  view  an  agreeable 
surprise  to  me.  I  had  heard  so  often  and  so  long,  in  Salt  Lake  City, 
that  that  was  the  only  really  beautiful  town  in  the  mountains — that  it 
had  become  a  part  of  my  creed,  as  a  man  will  sometimes  absorb  with- 
out question  what  he  hears  reiterated  for  years.  But  many  people 
would  prefer  Denver,  on  the  score  of  beauty  alone.  The  advantage 
of  Salt  Lake  City  is  that  it  is  twice  as  old,  and  its  shade  trees  and 
shrubbery  have  had  more  time  to  grow.  But  in  Denver  we  find 
bright  irrigating  streams,  fine  gardens,  shade  trees,  grass  plats  and 
many  elegant  residences.  In  the  last  respect  this  far  exceeds  Salt 
Lake.  But  the  noticeable  point  of  difference  is  in  churches,  school- 
houses  and  daily  papers.  In  the  two  former  Denver  will  compare 
favorably  with  any  Eastern  city  of  its  size,  and  in  the  last  exceed 
most  of  them.  A  hundred  little  matters  illustrate,  in  a  marked  de- 
gree, the  difference  between  this  progressive,  homogeneous  people  and 
that  of  the  Mormon  capital.  At  the  Post-office,  of  an  evening,  one 
finds  almost  the  population  of  an  average  Western  city,  and  has  to 
take  his  turn  after  long  waiting.  At  Salt  Lake  I  never  saw  a  crowd 
at  the  delivery  large  enough  to  be  troublesome.  This  office  gives 
out  three  times  as  much  mail  as  that  at  Salt  Lake.  Here  are  a  people 
who  read  and  write,  think  and  question,  deliberate,  examine  and  come 
to  a  conclusion:  there  a  people  who  open  their  mouths  and  swal- 


COLORADO. 


AFFLUENT  OF  CLEAR  CREEK. 


449 

low  what  the  shep- 
herd gives  them; 
obey  their  bishop 
like  good  chil- 
dren; believe  the 
whole  outside 
world  to  be 
doomed,  and, 
therefore  un- 
worthy of  corre- 
spondence except 
on  indispensables. 
After  a  pleasant 
week  in  Denver 
we  (I  had  taken 
a  better  half 
while  in  the 
States)  departed 
for  Georgetown 
by  way  of  the 
Colorado  Central 
and  Narrow- 
Guage.  The  for- 
mer runs  only  to 
Golden  City,  at 
the  foot  of  the, 
mountains,  where 
we  transfer  to  the 
Narrow-Guage. 
There  Clear 
Creek,  which  has 
been  a  foaming 
mountain  torrent 
through  all  its 
upper  course, 
emerges  from  the 
mountains  and 
supplies  irrigation 
to  a  fertile  valley 
fifteen  miles  long. 
From  this  on  our 


450  WESTERN  WILDS. 

course  is  up  a  steep  grade  and  through  the  domain  of  the  sublime  and 
beautiful.  The  narrow  train  dashes  from  side  to  side  of  the  rocky 
cafion,  now  rushing  along  at  fifteen  miles  an  hour  when  there  is  a 
short  stretch  of  easy  grade,  and  again  toiling  slowly  up  and  over  the 
rocks;  one  minute  we  are  under  an  overhanging  bluff  a  thousand  feet 
in  height,  and  the  next  out  in  an  open  valley  where  the  widening 
canon  gives  us  a  broad  view  of  green  plats,  timbered  hills  and  the 
deep  blue  sky  beyond.  At  every  pause  we  hear  the  continuous  roar, 
a  soothing  monotone,  of  Clear  Creek  dashing  down  its  rocky  channel, 
a  limpid  stream  when  unobstructed,  but  churned  to  milk-white  foam 
where  bowlders  choke  its  bed;  now  to  our  right,  now  to  our  left,  and 
again  directly  under  us,  as  the  train  repeatedly  crosses  it  to  gain  ele- 
vation At  times  the  cliffs  so  crowd  upon  the  stream  that  a  way  for  the 
iron  track  has  been  blasted  out  of  the  stone  wall ;  and  again  the  road- 
way is  upon  immense  table  rocks  in  the  very  bed  of  the  stream. 
It  was  a  triumph  of  engineering.  The  route  was  only  practicable 
for  a  narrow-guage  road,  on  which  short  curves  and  abrupt  rises  pre- 
sent no  great  obstacle  to  the  little  engine  and  narrow  cars.  All 
the  slopes  are  covered  with  dark  green  forests,  and  even  the  over- 
hanging cliffs  fringed  with  delicate  pines,  softening  the  outlines, 
adding  fresh  charms,  and  preventing  that  gloomy  grandeur  which 
so  marks  the  mountain  scenery  of  Arizona.  Here  and  there  the 
solid  wall  lining  the  cafion  seemed  split  to  its  very  base,  and  out  of 
the  narrow  cleft  flowed  an  affluent  of  Clear  Creek,  its  waters  clear  as 
alcohol. 

The  main  line  of  this  road  runs  up  North  Clear  Creek  to  Black- 
hawk  and  Central  City;  the  left  branch  is  to  run  to  Georgetown,  but 
now  terminates  at  Floyd  Hill,  leaving  us  eighteen  miles  of  staging  to 
reach  the  metropolis-of  the  richest  silver  district  in  the  new  State. 

Most  of  this  stage  is  through  a  broader  canon,  the  timbered  hills  ris- 
ing three  thousand  feet  on  both  sides.  Towards  the  last  we  enter  a 
narrow  gorge,  then  suddenly  the  cafion  widens  again,  and  Clear 
Creek  is  seen  flowing  placidly  down  the  center  of  a  tolerably  level 
tract,  some  two  miles  long  and  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  mile  wide. 
At  the  upper  end  of  this  plat,  on  the  last  considerable  piece  of  level 
land  this  side  of  the  mountains,  stands  Georgetown — an  attractive  Al- 
pine hamlet,  8,410  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Tourists  by  the 
Pacific  Railway  think  themselves  away  up  when  at  Sherman,  but  here 
is  a  prosperous  community  of  three  thousand  people,  and  a  handsome 
town,  a  hundred  feet  higher  than  Sherman.  Here  the  creek  and 
caflon  run  nearly  north.  Southward,  the  town  ends  abruptly  against 


COLORADO.  451 

Leavenworth  Mountain,  which  rises  twelve  hundred  feet  above  the 
Barton  House — set  on  a  rocky  offset  at  its  foot.  But  the  visible 
peak  is  only  the  end  and  lowest  point  of  Leavenworth,  a  spur  from 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  which  are  here  known  as  "  the  Range." 

The  fairer  section  of  our  party  are  startled  at  the  crowds  of  men  in  the 
streets,  not  a  woman  being  visible ;  for  this  is  Saturday  evening,  when 
fifteen  hundred  men  from  the  hills  get  their  mail  here,  besides  the  res- 
ident population ;  while  the  whole  district  probably  does  not  contain 
three  hundred  females.  After  a  week's  rest  at  the  Barton  House,  we 
take  for  the  season  a  roomy  cabin  in  a  little  pine  grove,  at  the  foot  of 
Griffith  Mountain,  where  we  dwell  in  all  comfort  and  coolness  for  three 
months.  The  first  sensation  of  visitors  from  the  low  country  is  a 
slight  languor,  and  a  wonderful  tendency  to  sleep.  The  nights  are  so 
eool  and  the  air  so  light.  For  a  fortnight  we  sleep  ten  hours  every 
night,  and  can  scarcely  get  through  the  day  without  a  nap.  But  if  we 
rashly  attempt  to  run  up^-stairs,  or  even  hurry  on  level  ground,  the  la- 
boring lungs  swell  the  chest,  and  the  heart  pounds  away  on  the  ribs  as 
if  it  would  give  loud  warning  to  "  go  slow."  But  the  thin  air  is  also  in- 
vigorating ;  the  cold  nights  and  sharp  morning  air  are  wonderful  ap- 
petizers; while  the  days  are  rarely  too  warm  for  comfort,  and  in  no 
long  time  one  feels  his  vigor  redoubled,  and  fairly  rejoices  in  high 
climbs. 

When  it  is  said  that  the  Rocky  Mountains  have  an  average  eleva- 
tion of  12,000  feet  above  the  sea,  the  Eastern  imagination  is  apt  to 
picture  them  as  rising  abruptly  two  miles  or  more  above  the  plains ; 
but  in  fact  nearly  half  this  elevation  is  gained  by  the  traveler  before 
he  reaches  the  mountains.  All  the  way  from  Kansas  City,  800  feet 
above  the  sea,  to  Denver,  5,600  feet  high,  and  still  twenty  miles  from 
the  mountains,  one  constantly  travels  up-hill ;  and  at  the  station  on  the 
Kansas  Pacific,  where  one  gets  his  first  dim  and  distant  view  of  Pike's 
Peak,  he  is  higher  than  the  summit  of  any  mountain  in  Pennsylvania. 
Colorado  contains  no  land  less  than  3,000  feet  high.  Denver  is  one 
mile  above  New  York,  and  the  prosperous  cities  of  Georgetown  and 
Central  City  3,000  feet  higher  still.  Manifestly  all  the  conditions  of 
animal  and  vegetable  life  are  changed,  and  time  only  is  needed  to  pro- 
duce in  this  Alpine  State  a  new  and  peculiar  variety  of  the  genus 
American.  The  miner  lives  at  an  average  elevation  of  3,000  feet 
above  the  agriculturist,  but  in  most  of  the  large  cations  wheeled 
carriages  can  be  driven  2,000  feet  higher:  over  grassy  meads  and 
through  dense  pine  forests,  beside  brawling  brooks,  and  again  out 
upon  bare  rocky  flats,  to  the  foot  of  the  summit  ridge,  which  rises, 


452  WESTERN   WILDS. 

abrupt  and  rocky,  2,000  feet  above  the  timber  line.  In  summer  one 
may  go  the  foot  of  Gray's  Peak  with  less  inconvenience  than  to  any  of 
the  secluded  mountain  towns  of  Pennsylvania.  But  it  is  the  last 
2,000  feet  that  cost. 

Let  us  map  out  the  district  about  Georgetown,  beginning  at  the 
quartz  mill,  a  mile  below  the  city.  First  to  our  right,  and  west- 
ward, is  the  lowest  of  the  mining  localities,  Douglas  Mountain. 
Farther  along,  and  rising  just  to  the  west  of  the  lower  part  of  George- 
town, is  Democrat  Mountain,  nearly  bald  on  the  summit,  not  because 
it  is  above  the  timber  line,  but  because  of  an  immense  slide  some  cent- 
uries ago.  Silver  Creek  Gulch,  a  slight  depression,  separates  it  from 
Republican  Mountain.  Several  hundred  feet  higher  than  Democrat, 
and  crowned  with  heavy  timber  to  its  summit,  this  latter  rears  an 
awful  front  two  thousand  feet  above  the  center  of  town.  The  bald 
front  seems  nearly  perpendicular,  and  has  projections  the  size  of  the 
largest  church  in  New  York,  and  perpendicular  faces  here  and  there 
a  hundred  feet  square  -a  sight  of  unwearying  sublimity.  Seen  from 
directly  in  front,  that  is,  anywhere  in  town,  it  would  seem  that  no 
living  thing  but  a  bird  could  go  up  or  down  that  face;  and  yet  there  is 
a  winding  trail  along  the  rocky  offsets  by  which  a  few  daring  men  de- 
scend rather  than  make  a  long  circuit;  and  on  the  Fourth  of  July, 
1875,  a  French  miner  ascended  to  the  summit,  planted  a  flag,  and  re- 
turned to  the  hotel  in  one  hour  and  forty-eight  minutes.  This  he  did 
on  a  bet  of  ten  dollars  that  he  could  do  it  in  two  hours.  It's  a  pity 
for  him,  perhaps,  that  he  could  only  raise  ten  dollars,  for  he  could 
have  had  takers  to  any  amount.  On  the  summit  is  a  flag  three  feet 
long  which  can  only  be  seen  from  town  by  a  good  eye,  and  then  looks 
about  the  size  of  a  pocket-handkerchief.  A  little  beyond,  the  face. of 
the  mountain  bends  toward  the  south-wrest,  and  continues  two  miles 
further,  to  Cherokee  Gulch.  Beyond  comes  Sherman  Mountain.  At 
their  junction  is  the  great  mining  center,  from  which  I  know  not  how 
many  millions  in  silver  ore  have  been  taken.  Sherman  runs  on 
nearly  a  mile  further  to  Brown  Gulch,  beyond  which  is  Brown 
Mountain,  the  last  in  that  direction  which  has  any  relation  to  this 
district.  All  of  these  gulches  are  very  shallow,  and  do  not  really  di- 
vide the  niountain ;  the  formation  of  veins  is  continuous  across  most 
of  them,  and  some  of  the  richest  lodes  extend  across  the  deepest  gulch. 

On  the  left,  or  east  side  of  the  cafion,  all  the  range  is  known  as 
Griffith  Mountain,  while  from  the  south  Leavenworth  abuts  sharply 
on  the  town.  West  of  it  is  Right-hand  Gulch,  down  which  comes  a 
good  sized  stream  by  way  of  Devil's  Gate  and  half  a  dozen  more  beau- 


COLORADO.  453 

tiful  cascades;  to  the  east  is  Left-hand  Gulch,  a  rocky  trough  with 
great  fall,  in  which  the  stream  is  a  constant  succession  of  cascades  and 
rapids,  all  the  way  up  to  its  origin  in  the  snow-banks  on  the  Range. 
Only  two  hundred  yards  above  the  Barton  House  a  square  reservoir 
was  blasted  out  of  the  rocky  bottom,  and  in  that  short  distance  fall 
enough  for  the  water-works  is  secured  to  throw  water  over  the  spire 
of  the  Union  School  building — the  highest  in  town.  This  stream  is 
cold  as  spring-water  all  summer,  and  quite  as  pure  and  healthful. 
Just  across  town,  on  the  face  of  Republican  Mountain,  is  a  beautiful 
fall  of  thirty  feet  or  so,  and  all  around  tiny  streams  pour  down 
from  ice-cold  springs  or  snow-banks  near  the  summit — a  natural  water 
system  not  to  be  surpassed.  The  two  main  streams  unite  in  the 
center  of  town  to  form  Clear  Creek ;  above  the  mills  it  is  crystal  clear 
and  sweet  to  the  ta§te,  Jjelow  them  it  is  now  foul  with  "tailings"  and 
the  wash  of  poisonous  ores,  and  contains  no  fish,  though  once  lively 
with  them. 

Our  party  celebrated  the  Fourth  of  July,  1874,  on  the  dividing 
ridge  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  at  least  13,000  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  There  we  loosed  the  American  eagle,  and  with  polysyllabic 
speech  and  patriotic  songs  moved  him  to  soar  and  scream.  We 
straddled  the  backbone  of  America,  sat  down  on  the  ridge  pole  of  the 
continental  water-shed,  ate  sardines  from  California  and  crackers  from 
Boston,  and  drank  from  two  ice-cold  rivulets  which  flowed  from  the 
same  snow-bank,  the  one  to  the  Atlantic  and  the  other  to  the  Pacific. 
The  occasion  was  inspiring.  Of  course  we  did  and  said  all  those  pa- 
triotic things  which  are  customary  on  such  occasions;  the  speeches 
being  the  result  of  a  geometrical  progression  beyond  ordinary  patri- 
otic remarks  in  proportion  to  our  elevation,  and  proving  us  the  great- 
est, freest,  wisest  people  in  the  world.  Whether  the  British  lion 
howled  and  the  effete  despotisms  trembled,  is  not  known ;  but  it  is  to 
be  presumed  they  did.  The  real  enjoyment  was  in  the  trip  to  the 
summit,  whereof  a  few  notes  are  now  in  order,  beginning  with  our 
departure  from  the  rancheria  of  Charley  Utter,  scout,  guide,  and 
equine  purveyor. 

A  summer  morning  in  Georgetown  combines  the  perfect  in  climate 
and  scenery.  At  8  A.  M.,  the  sun  is  still  behind  Griffith  Mountain, 
and  the  city  in  a  shaded  amphitheater  walled  in  by  cool  mountains. 
But  this  promises  to  be  one  of  the  few  warm  days ;  and,  as  we  tighten 
straps  upon  the  mountain  bronchos,  selected  for  their  skill  in  going 
up  high  and  narrow  ways,  the  pack-trains  are  toiling  wearily,  by  care- 
fully devised  and  winding  dugways,  up  the  neighboring  cliffs.  Over 


454  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  north  end  of  Leavenworth,  on  rocky  ways,  with  an  incline  some- 
times of  fifty  degrees,  our  bronchos  carried  us  with  ease  and  safety  ;  for 
one  of  these  native  horses  could  easily  go  up  and  down  any  stairs  in 
Cincinnati.  Reaching  the  main  road  again,  above  the  reservoir,  we 
followed  a  gentle  up-grade  for  three  miles  to  the  first  climb.  There 
the  stream  plunges  down  a  series  of  cascades,  while  the  road  winds  in 
and  out  on  the  face  of  the  cliff,  to  reduce  the  nearly  perpendicular  wall 
to  a  series  of  passable  inclines :  at  times  the  frowning  granite  threat- 
ening to  close  in  and  cut  us  off;  at  times  the  foaming  stream  sinking 
clear  out  of  sight  in  the  gorge  itself  had  fashioned,  its  presence  only 
proved  by  the  roar  and  spray  that  issued  from  the  granite  jaws ;  and 
again  road  and  stream  came  together,  and  our  panting  animals  cooled 
themselves  in  fording  the  torrent.  At  this  level  we  enter  on  the 
heavy  forests  of  mountain  pine.  On  all  the  trees  the  limbs  slope 
downward  from  the  trunk,  the  result  of  heavy  winter  snows.  New 
beauties  appeared  at  every  step.  Cold  springs  bubbled  up  near  the 
road,  and  the  streams  therefrom  often  formed  little  ponds  which  were 
lined  with  lilies.  Other  flowers,  too,  became  more  numerous ;  and,  in 
the  timber,  the  dark  green  pines,  spruces,  firs,  and  hemlocks  grew 
dense  and  formed  a  heavy  shade.  Occasionally  we  passed  a  winter 
camp  of  miners,  where  the  stumps  standing  ten  or  twelve  feet  high 
suggested  the  work  of  Anakim ;  but  it  seems  they  were  cut  off  level 
with  the  surface  when  the  snow  was  at  its  deepest. 

Another  climb  of  a  thousand  feet  brought  us  to  the  region  of 
mountain  flowers.  There  were  myriads,  of  all  colors — white,  red,  and 
yellow  predominating,  all  of  the  brightest  hues.  Singularly  enough, 
all  the  open  spaces  were  densely  matted  with  buffalo  grass,  of  the  same 
species  as  that  on  the  plains,  which  our  horses  ate  with  avidity.  As 
we  progressed,  new  species  of  flowers  continually  appeared,  all  small, 
and  growing  smaller  every  mile.  Another  climb  of  some  five  hundred 
feet,  and  there  was  a  sudden  change  in  the  timber.  The  tall,  graceful 
pines  disappeared,  and  in  their  stead  came  a  scraggy,  scrubby  growth, 
with  a  tendency  to  "  crawl "  along  the  ground,  or  bunch  together.  It 
was  evident  we  were  nearing  the  timber  line.  It  is  not  cold,  as  many 
suppose,  which  causes  this  "crawling"  (thus  the  mountaineers,  scien- 
tists call  it  "  procumbence  ") ;  for  the  timber  line  is  reached  at  about 
the  same  altitude  in  the  tropics,  and  on  latitude  50°.  It  is  the  want  of 
oxygen  in  the  air,  by  reason  of  which  the  scant  growth  can  not  attain 
any  height,  but  leans  and  grows  along  the  ground.  A  few  more  steps, 
and  we  were  out  of  timber  entirely,  11,000  feet  high,  and  still  the  sum- 
mit stood  out  clear  and  distinct,  2,000  feet  above  us.  We  were  now 


COLORADO.  455 

almost  on  level  ground,  a  sort  of  plateau  bordering  the  highest  peaks ; 
and,  but  for  the  view  to  the  eastward  over  the  timber,  might  have 
fancied  ourselves  on  the  plains  at  the  foot  of  a  sharp,  rocky  range. 
We  were  in  the  midst  of  mountain  meadows,  every  little  slope  being 
rich  and  green  with  grass  and  willow  brush ;  but  in  every  gorge,  both 
above  and  below  us,  were  the  hard  accumulations  of  snow  and  ice, 
yielding  only  scant  rivulets  to  the  fervent  glances  of  the  sun.  And 
yet  all  around  these  snow  banks  were  bright  borders  of  flowers  of  the 
same  varieties  we  had  seen  below,  but  so  tiny  that  they  resembled 
colored  grass  rather  than  flowers. 

On  this  plain  stood  the  ruins  of  Argentine  City,  which,  ten  years  be- 
fore, boasted  a  thousand  inhabitants.  With  the  first  discovery  of  silver 
en  the  summit,  it  seemed  to  be  in  such  immense  lodes  that  its  richness 
was  considered  inexhaustible,  and  a  city  sprung  up  like  magic  at  the 
edge  of  the  timber  line.  But,  when  they  got  their  lodes  developed, 
they  found  that  though  rich  in  lead  they  run  only  sixty  to  a  hundred 
ounces  in  silver  to  the  ton,  while  no  man  could  do  more  than  half  a 
day's  work  in  that  rarified  air;  the  same  wages  being  required,  and 
provisions  even  more  expensive,  and  so  all  the  mines  there  were  aban- 
doned as  unprofitable.  Still  Argentine  stands  untenanted,  and  mill- 
ions of  pounds  of  lead  and  silver  ore  wait  for  owners.  It  was  a 
strange  and  romantic  scene :  the  abandoned  town  in  the  midst  of  a 
green  meadow ;  banks  of  flowers  all  around,  dotting  the  sloping  plain 
in  red,  blue,  and  yellow ;  right  among  them  heavy  snow  drifts,  fifty 
feet  deep  in  the  gulches,  from  which  ran  tiny  rivulets  to  water  the 
grass  and  flowers ;  rising  before  us  the  last  and  highest  range,  seamed 
and  scarred  in  every  direction,  and  shining  over  all  the  hot  sun  of 
July.  To  stand  in  the  sunshine  one  might  think  it  no. cooler  than  in 
Georgetown  ;  but  sitting  in  the  shade  it  soon  appears  that  the  heat  is 
all  in  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun;  the  air  is  really  cool.  While 'the 
ridge  was  too  abrupt  to  be  scaled  in  front,  a  gentle  slope  led  away  to 
the  north-east,  covered  with  buffalo  grass  nearly  to  the  summit.  Up 
this  we  toiled  for  an  hour,  reaching  the  highest  point  at  11  A.  M.,  and 
finding  there  some  ten  acres  of  tolerably  level  land,  and  another  won- 
der. While  the  whole  mountain  is  granite,  the  surface  is  covered  with 
sandstone  rocks,  which  show  marks  of  long  abrasion.  This  is  a  com- 
plete contradiction ;  geologically  these  stones  do  not  belong  there. 
Local  geologists  have  decided  that  they  were  brought  from  the  far 
North  and  dropped  there  by  an  iceberg,  toward  the  close  of  the  glacial 
period. 

Toward  the  south-west  the  Pacific  slope  begins  in  an  abrupt  fall  of 


456  WESTERN    WILDS. 

fifteen  hundred  feet  from  the  summit,  no  descent  at  that  point  being 
possible ;  but  the  grandest  scene  is  to  the  north-west.  Sloping  down 
at  an  angle  of  eighty  degrees,  but  still  passable  to  men  and  mountain 
sheep,  a  cliff  sinks  twenty-five  •  hundred  feet  to  a  beautiful  valley. 
Across  this,  and  seemingly  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away,  is  Torrey's 
Peak ;  a  little  to  the  left  of  it,  separated  by  a  complete  ice-gorge,  is 
Gray's  Peak,  so  near  that  it  seems  one  might  fire  a  pistol  ball  across 
the  chasm.  It  is  at  least  five  miles  in  a  direct  line  from  where  we 
stand.  Between  us  the  green  valley  is  dotted  with  snow  banks,  and 
the  little  streams  running  from  them  now  appear  ice-locked.  But  ex- 
amination through  a  field-glass  shows  that  what  looks  like  ice  is  really 
white  foam ;  the  rivulets  are  strong  streams,  fed  all  summer  by  the 
melting  snows  from  the  gorge  between  the  great  peaks.  For  an  hour 
we  amused  ourselves  by  loosening  the  movable  bowlders  and  prying 
them  over  the  cliff.  If  they  escaped  the  first  obstruction,  they  ac- 
quired a  velocity  that  sent  them  bounding  over  the  rocky  points  below, 
then  rushed  with  speed,  that  almost  made  the  head  swim,  down  the 
granite  troughs,  jumping  fifty  or  a  hundred  feet  at  a  time,  till,  carried 
by  a  rebound  clear  out  of  their  course,  they  struck  on  some  flinty  peak 
near  the  bottom  and  were  ground  to  powder,  the  dust  flying  in  the  air 
like  the  spray  dashed  up  when  a  cannon-ball  glances  on  the  water. 
Two  years  before  a  granite  bowlder,  loosened  by  a  blast,  from  the 
mountain  east  of  Georgetown,  estimated  at  two  tons'  weight,  came  down 
the  two  thousand  feet,  and  struck  on  one  end  of  a  blacksmith  shop, 
while  the  owner  was,  luckily,  a  few  rods  away.  Every  plank  and 
timber  was  ground  to  splinters ;  and,  it  is  perhaps  needless  to  add,  that 
smith  rebuilt  a  little  farther  out  in  the  valley. 

Two  months  later  we  visited  Gray's  Peak,  and  if  we  had  consulted 
all  the  almanacs  from  "  Zadkiel "  to  "  Danbury,"  we  could  not  have 
chosen  a  worse  time.  December  would  have  been  better,  as  we  should 
then  have  had  cold  weather  all  the  way,  and  suffered  no  sharp  con- 
trasts. As  it  was,  the  array  of  red  eyes  and  peeled  noses  was  dis- 
couraging. Our  party  of  ten  included  three  correspondents,  four 
ladies,  a  college,  professor,  and  two  indefinitely  classed  as  young  men. 
It  is  agreed  by  all  old  settlers,  that  no  one  can  decide  on  the  weather 
up  there  two  hours  ahead,  unless  it  has  just  cleared  up  with  a  cold 
wind;  then  it  will  probably.be  clear  for  a  day  or  two.  Therefore, 
though  the  morning  was  the  darkest  of  the  season,  and  a  dense  fog 
settling  down  on  Georgetown,  the  general  judgment  was  that  we 
should  soon  drive  through  and  get  above  the  fog,  and  have  clear 
weather  at  the  Peak.  So,  well  supplied  with  wraps,  we  set  out  with 


COLORADO.  457 

the  mercury  at  40°,  and  the  fog  thickening.  Our  route  lay  along 
Main  Clear  Creek,  by  Silver  Plume,  Brownville,  The  Terrible  Mine, 
Old  Bakerville,  and  many  a  scene  of  gloom  and  grandeur;  now  in  a 
forest  of  dense  pines,  again  in  a  narrow  gorge,  and  a  little  later  along 
a  rocky  dugway,  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  stream.  Though  wrap- 
ped in  a  fog  constantly  growing  denser,  our  encouraging  driver  in- 
sisted we  should  soon  get  through  it;  and,  though  now  chilled  and  dis- 
couraged, there  was  sunshine  and  a  bright  day  above.  We  did  get 
above  it  at  last ;  but,  just  as  we  emerged  from  the  fog,  the  upper 
moisture  fell  upon  us  in  a  terrific  storm  of  sleet.  In  ten  minutes  the 
road  was  a  glare  of  ice,  our  wrappings  stiff  as  armor,  and  the  horses' 
manes  and  tails  white  with  hoar  frost,  while  their  smoking  bodies  in- 
dicated that  they  were  the  only  members  of  the  party  comfortably 
warm.  Then  came  delusive  signs  of  clearing  off;  the  sun  sent  an 
occasional  ray  through  the  rifted  clouds,  the  sleet  ceased  to  fall, 
patches  of  blue  sky  appeared  here  and  there ;  and,  to  our  delighted 
eyes,  the  vast  red  and  yellow  range  of  McClellan  Mountain  rose  sud- 
denly before  us,  almost  over  our  heads,  its  snowy  and  icy  summit  glit- 
tering in  the  sunlight  like  an  exhalation  from  the  mist.  But  that 
which  brought  hope  to  us,  settled  the  case  with  our  experienced  guide, 
who  marked  that  the  rock  rabits  (conies?)  ran  from  covert  to  covert 
with  a  peculiar  low  moaning  cry,  like  that  of  a  bird  in  pain  ;  that  the 
mountain  ground-squirrels  (gophers?)  did  not  venture  out,  and  that 
the  loose  stock  on  the  range  was  hurrying  into  the  densest  timber  in 
the  canon.  Animal  instinct  was  ahead  of  our  science,  and  all  the  local 
probabilities  indicated  a  gale.  We  reached  Kelso's  cabin,  a  mile  and 
a  half  from  the  foot  of  the  Peak,  at  10  A.  M. ;  but  were  scarcely 
housed  before  the  storm  came  in  all  its  fury.  Ten  minutes  before,  the 
sun  was  shining,  the  clouds  floating  away  to  the  south-east,  and  all  of 
us  expecting  a  beautiful  day.  Suddenly  a  vast  bank  of  black  clouds 
moved  down  the  canon  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  Peak,  seeming 
to  have  the  weight  and  momentum  of  a  solid  body ;  a  storm  of  sleet 
rattled  against  the  windows,  and  sifted  through  the  branches  of  the 
pines ;  McClellan  Peaks,  but  five  minutes  before  so  bright  and  beau- 
tiful, faded  away  into  blackness ;  a  rumbling  sound,  as  of  distant  surf, 
was  heard,  only  the  trees  nearest  the  windows  were  visible,  and  the  air 
was  filled  with  driving  snow.  It  was  no  use  to  think  of  making  the 
trip  that  day ;  one  and  all  recognized  the  fact,  and  set  in  to  make  the 
time  as  jolly  as  possible.  We  could  not  have  been  snowed  in  with 
better  company,  or  in  a  better  place,  for  Kelso's  is  literally  a  gem  in 
the  mountains.  The  name,  Kelso's,  is  applied  to  an  irregular  collec- 


458  WESTERN   WILDS. 

s, 

tion  of  log  and  frame  cabins,  built  years  ago  by  the  Sonora  Mining 
Company,  and  now  kept  as  a  hotel  by  Mrs.  Z.  M.  Lane  and  Sou. 
There  are  bedding  and  accommodation  for  fifteen  persons,  including 
first-class  fare,  warm  rooms,  library  and  material  for  parlor  amuse- 
ments. The  cabin  is  just  below  the  timber  line,  in  the  last  grove, 
though  a  very  gentle  slope  of  mountain  meadow,  rich  with  grass  and 
flowers,  extends  a  mile  and  a  half  beyond,  to  the  foot  of  the  range. 
The  timber  line  is  every-where  at  about  the  same  elevation,  whether 
in  the  tropics  or  far  north ;  and  by  this  token  we  know  that  Kelso's 
cabin  is  about  11,000  feet  high.  Nothing  can  be  grown  for  the  use  of 
man,  but  the  grass  on  all  the  slopes  is  exceedingly  rank  and  nutritious. 
About  four  months  in  the  year  the  climate  is  delightful;  then  comes 
a  week  or  two  of  severe  storms,  one  of  which  caught  us,  and  after  that 
a  month  of  Indian  summer,  whose  glories  are  unsurpassed  by  any  thing 
in  New  England.  The  grass  retains  its  nourishing  qualities  until  the 
snow  is  too  deep  for  the  cattle  to  paw  it  away  in  feeding ;  but  in  May, 
though  the  old  grass  is  apparently  just  the  same,  the  melting  snow 
seems  to  have  taken  all  the  sweetness  out  of  it.  Back  of  the  cabin 
(westward)  rises  Kelso  Mountain,  perhaps  fifteen  hundred  feet  above 
the  creek,  containing  several  valuable  mines;  east  of  it  the  almost 
perpendicular  McClellan  range  puts  out  north-east  from  the  summit. 
Along  its  ragged  and  forbidding  sides  are  the  Vesper,  Stevens,  and 
several  other  very  rich  silver  lodes,  their  value  greatly  lessened  by  the 
difficulty  of  reaching  and  working  them. 

The  storm  continued  five  hours;  then  a  council  of  weather  was 
called,  and  decided  it  would  be  clear  by  midnight.  Captain  Lane  was 
to  rise  at  2  A.  M.,  and,  if  the  sky  looked  favorable,  all  were  to  get  up 
and  make  the  ascent  in  time  to  witness  sunrise  from  the  Peak.  He 
found  the  mercury  at  that  hour  only  five  degrees  above  zero,  with  a 
sharp  wind  and  penetrating  frost;  and  decided,  in  his  own  mind,  that 
"these  tender  buds  of  the  valley  could  never  endure  such  a  trip,"  and 
let  us  slumber  on  till  daylight.  Every  body  awoke  hungry,  and  de- 
clared the  almanac  mistaken  ;  it  was  Christmas  instead  of  September 
3d,  and  we  must  have  a  Christmas  breakfast.  Mrs.  Lane  did  the  oc- 
casion justice,  especially  in  the  item  of  cream  from  cattle  that  only 
yesterday  morning  grazed  on  bunch-grass,  now  buried  under  six  inches 
of  snow,  and  raspberries  picked  from  the  hill-sides  below  the  cabin. 
But  summer  luxuries  were  nowhere.  Hot  coifee,  hot  steaks,  dough- 
nuts, and  griddle-cakes  led  the  demand. 

We  started  on  the  ascent  at  7,  with  Captain  Lane  for  a  guide. 
There  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  the  bright  sunshine  was  just 


COLORADO.  459 

spreading  over  the  highest  peaks,  changing  their  icy  glitter  to  a  daz- 
zling variety  of  white,  green,  and  yellow  tints.  The  storm  left  us  one 
horse  short.  So  Mr.  Merrill,  journalist,  of  Pine  Bluff,  Arkansas,  and 
the  writer,  had  to  "  divide  time  "  on  a  single  pony.  The  walking  was 
comparatively  easy  to  the  foot  of  the  Peak,  then  suddenly  the  walker's 
breath  gave  out  and  he  took  "  tail  hold."  Then  ensued  a  scene  for  a 
comic  almanac.  With  Merrill  on  deck  and  the  author  towing  be- 
hind, we  would  struggle  ahead  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  the  horse 
blowing  like  a  porpoise  and  the  man  on  foot  gasping  for  breath,  un- 
able even  to  say  "whoa;"  then  the  author  would  mount,  and  Merrill 
take  the  tail.  In  vain  the  others,  now  fast  getting  ahead  of  us, 
shouted :  "  For  shame !  Let  go."  Neither  dared  to  loosen  his  hold, 
knowing  he  could  never  make  it  alone.  When  first  on  foot  one  would 
feel  peculiarly  vigorous,  as  if  he  could  run  right  up  the  slope  without 
a  gasp;  but  after  ten  or  twelve  steps  the  breath  would  suddenly  give 
out,  and  leave  him  completely  exhausted.  Only  a  minute  or  two  was 
required,  however,  for  a  renewal  of  lung-power.  Merrill  and  I  were 
both  asthmatics,  and  the  preceding  day  had  been  any  thing  but  favora- 
ble for  us ;  even  the  poor  horse  might  be  counted  a  "  pilgrim,"  as  he 
had  not  been  higher  than  Georgetown  for  a  month.  The  air,  too, 
besides  being  so  attenuated,  was  very  cold;  mane,  tail,  and  nose-hairs 
were  soon  white  with  frost,  as  were  our  beards ;  and  I  fancied  I  could 
see  a  look  of  almost  human  reproach  in  the  pony's  eye  as  he  cast 
frequent  glances  at  the  man  who  held  his  tail.  It  was  a  mean  ad- 
vantage to  take — the  hill  was  too  steep  for  him  to  kick — but  necessity 
justified  it. 

The  morning  sun  had  shone  on  the  snow  but  an  hour  or  so  when 
bright  fleecy  clouds  began  to  rise  and  obscure  the  view.  Then  a 
strong  wind  sprang  up,  and  the  mist  in  long,  filmy  lines  swept  around 
and  buried  us  in  its  chilly  depths.  For  five  minutes  at  a  time  we 
could  see  but  a  rod  or  two  ahead,  and  those  who  had  one  horse  apiece 
soon  left  Merrill  and  myself  far  behind.  Even  the  lady,  whose  guide 
and  guard  I  should  have  been  according  to  law,  left  us  at  the  last 
"  hog-back,"  being  on  a  spirited  little  pony  that  was  determined  to 
keep  up  with  the  rest.  All  the  way  we  could  plainly  hear  their  voices 
far  above  us,  the  shout  ringing  with  a  peculiar  metallic  clink,  like  the 
"  honk,  honk  "  of  wild  geese,  heard  over  our  heads  against  a  wintry 
sky.  At  intervals  a  strong  wind  would  spring  up  from  the  south-west 
and  sweep  all  the  mist  far  away  over  McClellan  Mountain ;  then  we 
could  look  back  over  the  sub-ranges  and  foot-hills  and  see  the  clouds 
banked  far  out  on  the  plains,  at  least  five  thousand  feet  below  us. 


460  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Then  back  would  come  the  breeze  and  with  it  the  mist,  and  we  would 
struggle  on  invisible  to  each  other. 

About  two-thirds  of  the  way  up,  the  elements  presented  a  wonderful 
sight.  The  wind  coming  around  the  peaks  in  two  currents  created  a 
vast  whirlpool  in  mid-air,  the  clouds  formed  in  an  immense  oval,  with 
an  opening  in  the  center,  down  which  we  could  see  the  deep  blue  sky, 
millions  of  miles  away.  The  sunlight  brightened  the  inner  edges  of 
this  oval,  about  which  the  clouds  were  rushing  round  and  round  with 
a  swiftness  that  made  the  head  swim  to  witness  it.  From  this  center 
outward  the  clouds  grew  darker  by  easy  gradations  till  lost  in  two  im- 
mense black  columns,  one  coming  around  Torrey's  Peak  from  one  direc- 
tion, the  other  meeting  it  from  Gray's.  Just  at  this  time  we  of  the 
rear-guard  were  passing  along  the  last  "hog-back,"  which  is,  perhaps, 
a  rod  wide  and  nearly  level ;  to  the  right  the  face  of  the  mountain, 
now  covered  with  snow  and  ice,  slopes  away  at  an  angle  of  50°  for 
some  two.  thousand  feet,  while  to  the  left  is  an  open  chasm  with  per- 
pendicular sides  and  a  depth  of  seven  hundred  feet.  Fortunately,  the 
trail  there  is  over  gravel  and  loose  stones,  instead  of  solid  rock,  and 
there  is  no  danger  of  slipping.  But  a  few  weeks  since,  a  lady  who 
went  up  for  a  sunrise  view,  on  returning  by  this  point,  fainted  at  sight 
of  what  she  had  passed  in  the  dark.  The  danger  is  all  in  the  looks. 
A  horse  with  any  experience  can  go  along  a  ridge  two  feet  wide  just 
as  safely  as  on  a  broad  turnpike.  In  1874,  a  miner  got  benighted  on 
McClellan  Mountain,  and  rode  a  mountain  pony  down  one  of  those 
almost  perpendicular  gorges,  where  no  man  dare  ride  in  the  day- 
time and  with  a  sight  of  the  danger.  The  horse  took  the  nearest  cut 
for  home,  and  only  added  another  instance  to  the  truth  that  the  in- 
stinct of  a  mountain  pony  is  more  certain  than  the  reason  of  a  man. 
Had  the  rider  tried  to  guide  him  down  by  day,  it  would  have  been 
death  to  both. 

Soon  after  this  passage  a  loud  shout  from  the  upper  air  announced 
that  the  party  had  completed  the  ascent ;  and  hurrying  on  as  fast  as 
our  lungs  would  allow,  in  half  an  hour  we  were  with  them.  Just  then 
a  strong  wind  swept  away  the  clouds,  and  for  ten  minutes  we  enjoyed 
all  the  glory  of  the  view — a  free  outlook  for  a  hundred  miles  or  more 
in  all  directions.  East  of  us  McClellan  Mountain  seemed  to  run  down 
with  perfect  regularity  till  it  merged  in  Leavenworth,  and  that  again 
in  Griffith ;  but  that  low  the  clouds  were  massed  so  heavily  that  all 
view  of  the  plains  and  foot-hills  was  shut  off.  A  heavy  storm  seemed 
to  be  in  progress  at  Denver,  and  the  dark  clouds  hung  above  that 
place,  but  still  eight  thousand  feet  below  us.  Southward  we  could 


COLORADO. 


461 


catch  but  fitful  glances  of  Pike's  Peak,  as  it  seemed  to  be  wrapped  in 
vast  accumulations  of  cloud  which  revolved  around  it  as  a  center  of 
attraction.  Northward  and  toward  Long's  Peak  the  view  was  much 
the  same.  The  clouds  seemed  driving  with  force  against  the  highest 
part  of  the  range.  Across  the  cafions  they  would  move  with  surpris- 


SOUTH-WEST  FROM  GRAY'S  PEAK. 


ing  swiftness,  the  sunlight  striking  through  and  giving  them  a  soft  and 
fleecy  whiteness  ;^  but  encountering  the  peaks  those  behind  apparently 
shoved  on  those  in  front  till  they  heaped  up  in  heavy  black  masses,  too 
dense  for  the  solar  rays  to  penetrate  them.  Down  the  Pacific  Slope, 


462  WESTERN   WILDS. 

south-westward,  the  view  for  a  long  time  was  uninterrupted.  From 
our  standpoint  the  hill  fell  off  evenly,  and  too  steep  for  descent,  for 
three  thousand  feet  or  more  to  a  beautiful  green  valley,  dotted  with 
dense  groves  of  fir  and  pine  ;  and  beyond  that  we  could  see  over  the 
sub-ranges  and  look  directly  down  into  a  score  of  narrow  valleys, 
through  which  as  many  clear  streams  coursed  like  narrow  bands 
of  silver — all  bearing  rapidly  downward  to  Bear  .Creek  and  Snake 
River,  and  thence  out  to  the  Great  Colorado.  Here  and  there  ap- 
peared little  mining  camps,  seemingly  set  like  toy  villages  on  the 
green  plats,  in  among  the  heavy  pines,  or  against  the  red  and  yellow 
faces  of  the  cliffs. 

But  this  extended  view  was  brief.  First  came  a  dead  calm,  and 
then  a  strong  wind  from  the  south-west  drove  the  mist  over  the  scene. 
To  the  north-west  only  was  the  view  clear,  and  in  that  direction  we 
saw  merely  the  broken  peaks  in  which  head  the  two  Laramies  and 
minor  affluents  of  the  North  Platte.  Beyond  them,  and  a  mile  and  a 
quarter  vertically  below  us,  were  Laramie  Plains,  now  hidden  from  our 
sight  by  dense  clouds.  The  cold  had  meantime  grown  too  intense  for 
the  most  hardy,  and  we  crouched  down  behind  a  stone  wind-breaker 
which  successive  tourists  have  erected.  The  brandy,  which  no  one 
should  ascend  without,  was  produced  and  a  light  lunch  partaken  of; 
but  two  of  the  ladies  completely  succumbed,  and  recourse  was  had  to 
ammonia  and  chafing  the  hands  and  face  with  snow.  No  serious  suf- 
fering followed,  though  some  people  are  greatly  affected  at  such 
heights.  ,  Those  of  a  hemorrhagic  tendency  often  have  bleeding  at  the 
nose.  The  only  thing  that  bothers  me  is  a  sort  of  over-action  of  the 
heart  and  a  heavy  fluttering  in  the  temples,  if  I  move  faster  than  a 
slow  walk.  Most  of  us  suffered  only  from  cold ;  and  the  most  hardy 
remained  upon  the  summit  but  an  hour.  On  the  descent  there  was 
one  slight  accident.  An  unskillfully  fastened  buckle  turned  in  the 
girth  and  so  irritated  the  horse,  which  a  lady  was  riding,  that  he  took 
the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  started  for  home.  He  descended  all  that 
winding  way  in  less  than  three-quarters  of  an  hour — we  were  two 
hours  ascending — reaching  the  cabin  an  hour  before  us,  while  she,  to 
use  her  own  words,  "  hung  on  to  the  pommel  and  trusted  in  God." 
That  was,  however,  the  best  thing  to  do,  even  if  the  horse  had  been  at 
his  natural  gait,  for  in  attempting  to  guide  one  is  much  more  apt  to 
disconcert  him.  I  am  willing  enough  to  be  carried  up  a  mountain, 
but  I  prefer  to  walk  down,  which  I  did  in  this  instance,  reaching  the 
base  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter. 

It   was  now   past  noon;   the  snow  was  entirely   melted  from   the 


COLORADO.  463 

mountain  meadows,  just  above  the  timber  line ;  the  late  ice-locked 
rivulets  again  ran  unvexed,  and  the  brawling  brooks  were  musically 
pouring  their  increased  waters  into  Clear  Creek.  From  the  summit, 
even  in  the  hottest  weather,  all  these  streams  appear  as  if  frozen  solid ; 
the  eye  can  perceive  no  motion,  and  the  white  foam  over  the  ripples 
has  the  exact  appearance  of  ice.  Our  ride  over  the  grassy  slope  to  the 
cabin  was  delightful,  the  air  having  moderated  to  a  pleasant  warmth. 
McClellan  Mountain,  to  our  right,  presented  only  here  and  there  a 
patch  of  snow.  Nearly  all  the  west  face  of  it  is  inaccessible,  there  be- 
ing but  a  few  ravines  filled  with  earth  slides  up  which  zigzag  trails 
have  been  with  great  difficulty  constructed.  From  our  road  the  cabin 
and  ore-house  of  the  Stevens'  mine  seems  as  if  suspended  against  the 
cliff  in  mid-air,  the  chains  which,  anchored  into  the  solid  rock,  hold 
it  in  place  being,  of  course,  invisible  to  us.  One  could  scarcely  avoid 
the  conclusion  that  it  maintained  position  contrary  to  the  law  of  grav- 
ity. A  few  rods  west  of  it  is  one  of  these  earth  slides  mentioned,  and 
up  this  a  man  and  donkey  were  slowly  working  their  way  along  a  zig- 
zag which  looked  to  us  nearly  perpendicular.  This  trail  leads  up  to 
a  point  even  with  the  mine,  and  thence  a  way  is  worked  along  the 
face  of  the  rock  to  the  cabin.  In  addition  to  all  these  difficulties,  the 
air  is  so  rare  that  few  men  can  do  a  full  day's  work  there,  but  the  ore 
is  so  rich  that  the  Stevens  pays  well  for  working.  Evidently  there 
never  can  be  sudden  inflation  from  an  increase  of  the  precious  metals, 
for  the  difficulty  of  getting  will  always  make  them  valuable. 

I  strained  my  eye  to  find  the  cabin  of  the  Vesper  Mine,  which  we 
visited  on  the  4th  of  July,  and  finally  saw  it  within  a  few  rods  of  the 
summit,  looking  like  a  pigeon-house  stuck  on  a  rock.  Below  it  was 
the  gulch  and  earth  slide,  with  a  slope  of  seventy  degrees  for  2,500  feet, 
down  which  we  rolled  the  granite  bowlders.  After  a  good  warming 
and  a  hot  feed  at  the  cabin,  we  gladly  took  carriage  at  3  P.  M.,  and, 
all  the  way  being  down-hill,  reached  Georgetown  at  five,  delighted, 
disgusted,  frost-touched,  tired  and  sleepy. 

Moral — Go  to  the  summit  between  June  15th  and  August  15th,  or 
wait  till  settled  cold  weather. 

The  three  months  I  spent  among  the  mines  of  Colorado  were  among 
the  most  pleasant  in  my  life.  In  August  I  came  down  to  Denver 
and  thence,  by  way  of  Bowlder  City,  visited  the  rich  Caribou  District, 
which  was  just  then  exciting  so  much  attention.  Leaving  Denver  at 
4  A.  M.,  with  the  Sunday  morning  express  sent  out  by  the  Rocky 
Mountain  News,  we  drove  north-west  over  the  high  plains  lying  be- 
tween that  city  and  Bowlder.  This  region  is  now  dotted  with  arti- 


464  WESTERN   WILDS. 

ficjial  lakes,  all  stocked  with  trout.  All  the  irrigating  canals,  taken 
out  as  far  as  possible  up  the  mountain  streams,  are  carried  high  up 
on  the  ridges,  and  into  every  convenient  depression  an  acecquia  leads 
sufficient  water  to  maintain  a  crystal  lake.  This  insures,  in  a  few 
years,  an  abundant  supply  of  fish ;  and  local  scientists  affirm  that  the 
increase  of  water  surface  will  eventually  give  this  section  more  rain- 
fall, and  redeem  much  of  the  high  land  for  agriculture.  Bowlder  has 
a  romantic  location.  Just  above  the  town,  westward,  the  mountain 
rises  very  abruptly  nearly  two  thousand  feet,  its  front  split  by  the  nar- 
row Bowlder  Canon,  from  whose  rugged  jaws  gushes  the  clear  and 
crystal  stream.  Once  issued  from  the  mountain,  the  foaming  creek 
subsides  to  a  gentle  current,  meandering  through  a  fertile  valley. 
Some  distance  up  the  canon  a  flume  is  put  in,  to  gain  a  fall,  and 
thence  the  water  is  carried  along  the  cliff  in  trestled  boxes;  issuing 
thence  far  up  on  the  ridge,  it  circles  all  the  valley,  supplying  irri- 
gation to  thirty  thousand  acres  of  land,  with  abundant  surplus  for 
fish-ponds  and  fountains.  Bowlder  Valley  now  yields  from  a  fourth 
to  a  third  of  all  the  wheat  produced  in  Colorado. 

But  if  you  would  enjoy  Western  Wilds  in  all  their  native  beauty,  take 
the  stage  from  Bowlder  up  to  Caribou,  at  the  head  of  the  canon — all 
the  way  through  pine-clad  hills,  romantic  glens  or  wild  gorges,  which 
excite  every  emotion  of  awe  and  sublimity.  To  the  right  of  the  road, 
shut  in  by  walls  of  water-worn  granite  and  shaded  by  dense  forests  of 
overhanging  pines,  are  the  Bowlder  Falls — a  mighty  work  of  nature, 
which  will  long  remain  unmarred  by  the  hand  of  man,  for  rocky 
flume,  granite  wall  and  pine-clad  summit  have  transcendent  beauty 
without  utility.  The  stream,  which  rises  almost  on  the  summit,  issu- 
ing from  the  snow-banks  which  send  out  ice-cold  rills  from  May  till 
October,  plunges  down  a  series  of  offsets,  each  making  a  majestic  cas- 
cade, each  cascade  differing  from  all  the  rest.  From  the  foot  of  each 
little  fall  a  winding  way  leads  along  the  mossy  hill-sides  to  the  next 
above ;  while  the  whole  way  is  shaded  by  the  immense  pines,  which 
in  places  lean  over  and  mingle  their  branches  above  the  foamy  rapids. 
Here  a  well-equipped  excursion  party  might  spend  days  of  calm  en- 
joyment, shaded  by  the  evergreen  forests,  lulled  by  the  roar  of  the 
waters,  soothing  eye  and  brain  by  contemplation  of  nature's  wild 
beauty. 

After  a  day's  slow  progress  upward,  our  coach  suddenly  emerges 
into  the  open  mountain  meadows  about  Nederland  (location  of  the 
Holland  Company's  quartz  mills),  and  a  few  miles  beyond  darkness 
comes  upon  us  at  Caribou,  a  mining  town  almost  on  the  summit  of 


COLORADO.  465 

the  mountains.  There  is  a  singular  air  of  newness  in  the  whole  dis- 
trict. In  town  I  find  the  streets  not  yet  cleared  of  native  timber;  of 
the  thousand  or  more  inhabitants  most  are  living  in  unfinished  frames, 
and  the  heavy  groves  of  pine  on  all  the  surrounding  knolls  give  the 
place  the  pleasing  appearance  of  a  camp-meeting  ground.  And  here 
I  put  in  a  few  days  studying  the  silver  mines. 

The  main  ridge,  called  by  the  enthusiastic  the  "Mountain  of  Sil- 
ver/' was  for  a  mile  or  more  ^completely  pock-marked  with  prospect 
holes,  but  no  more  than  a  dozen  locations  were  developed  sufficiently  to 
be  called  mines.  It  is  notable  that  in  all  new  mining  regions  one  will 
find  hundreds  of  claims  with  shafts  down  fifty  or  seventy-five  feet,  and 
work  suspended.  In  many  instances  it  is  because  the  original  lo- 
cators are  not  able  to  push  the  development,  but  sometimes  because 
they  are  afraid  to.  The  vein,  they  reason,  shows  well  at  present; 
there  are  good  indications  of  a  true  fissure,  such  indications  as  will 
impress  buyers  favorably  that  a  big  lode  is  below,  but  if  they  sink  a 
hundred  feet,  it  may  not  turn  out  a  true  fissure  after  all.  So  they  will 
sell  on  present  appearances.  Buyers  should  look  out  for  such  cases, 
and,  if  the  shaft  is  not  down  at  least  a  hundred  feet,  be  sure  anyhow 
that  it  proves  the  existence  of  a  regular  fissure. 

Down  in  the  Sherman  Mine  I  found  a  score  of  men  picking  and 
blasting  out  the  rich  rock,  of  which  the  poorest  grade  yields  a  hun- 
dred and  thirty  ounces  of  silver  per  ton,  the  richest  fourteen  hundred 
ounces.  This  estimate  is  from  the  mill-runs — the  only  honest  test  of 
a  mine's  capacity.  Assays,  of  course,  show  more.  The  assayer  who 
does  not  pay  for  any  thing,  but  is  paid  for  "  sample  assay,"  may  not 
be  entirely  disinterested,  but  the  mill-owner  is  not  going  to  pay  a  dol- 
lar an  ounce  for  a  single  ounce  of  silver  more  than  he  can  get  out  of 
the  rock.  Most  mill  men  do  not  claim  to  get  more  than  eighty-five 
per  cent,  of  the  silver  actually  in  the  rock,  but  the  owners  at  Neder- 
land,  where  this  ore  is  worked,  now  claim  to  get  over  ninety  per  cent. 
This  fact  also  makes  the  mill  run  a  better  test  than  the  assay,  for,  ob- 
viously, investors  in  mines  care  more  for  what  they  can  get  out  than 
what  science  shows  to  be  there.  And  herein  is  seen  one  of  the  reasons 
why  it  pays  to  transport  many  kinds  of  ore  from  Colorado  to  Swan- 
sea, Wales,  for  there  they  save  all  the  silver,  gold,  arsenic  and  other 
minerals. 

In  the  Sherman  and  some  other  mines  here  was  used  the  new  com- 
pound known  as  tri-nitro-glycerine.  The  workmen  objected  forcibly 
at  first,  but  the  inventor  and  manufacturer,  Professor  C.  D.  Chase,  of  St. 
Louis,  maintains  that  it  is  safer  than  any  other  explosive  in  use.  Its 
30 


466  WESTERN  WILDS. 

power  is  wonderful.  During  my  stay  the  workmen  in  the  lower  drift 
drilled  one  hole  four  feet  deep,  and  put  in  a  cartridge  eighteen  inches 
long,  containing  eight  inches  of  the  stuff;  when  "  shot"  it  broke  out 
25  cubic  feet  of  solid  granite.  It  is  entirely  too  powerful  to  fool 
with.  So,  when  invited  to  go  down  and  see  it  work,  I  respectfully 
declined.  It  is  usually  "  planted  "  in  a  metal  cartridge,  and  exploded 
with  battery  and  cap,  but  in  cases  where  the  cartridge  can  not  be  in- 
serted the  liquid  is  poured  in.  The  common  method  is  to  bore  four 
holes  in  the  face  of  the  drift,  then  fill  and  explode  them  all  at  once, 
tearing  off  a  yard  square  and  a  foot  in  depth  of  the  rock.  This  ex- 
plosive has  been  found  cheaper  than  dualin,  dynamite  or  giant  powder, 
and  now  that  the  workmen  are  acquainted  with  it  they  consider  it  safe 
enough.  But  it  would  take  high  wages  to  keep  me  in  its  vicinity 
very  long. 

Near  the  Sherman  is  the  Poor  Man's  Lode,  Avith  vein  from  two  to 
six  feet  in  thickness,  and  ore-seam  from  five  inches  to  two  feet.  The 
rest  of  the  vein  is  filled  with  quartz  and  decomposed  granite.  The 
existence  of  narrow  ore-seams  in  large  veins,  the  rest  of  the  vein  mat- 
ter often  entirely  barren,  though  sometimes  containing  threads  or 
pockets  of  silver  ore,  is  a  characteristic  of  nearly  all  the  mines  of  Col- 
orado, and  a  never-failing  source  of  speculation  and  theorizing.  The 
advocates  of  the  sublimation  theory  of  lode-formation  rely  upon  it 
very  largely  to  prove  their  case;  and  it  is  the  one  phenomenon  which 
advocates  of  the  eruption  theory  can  not  explain  in  harmony  with 
their  views.  For,  manifestly,  if  the  contents  of  the  vein  all  gushed 
up  in  a  mass  from  liquid  reservoirs  below,  they  could  not  have  thus 
arranged  themselves  in  neat  layers  of  ore  and  vein-stone;  while,  if 
condensed  from  successive  mineral  vapors,  we  should  naturally  expect 
the  existing  order.  The  "  Poor  Man"  and  "  Sherman  "  preserve  their 
course  quite  regularly  in  the  deep  workings,  as  indeed  do  most  of  the 
lodes  here.  One  great  source  of  lawsuits  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the 
veins  under  ground  will  not  follow  the  course  laid  down  for  them  on 
the  surface  in  a  United  States  patent.  The  patent  generally  locates 
the  claim  along  the  mountain  side  as  straight  as  a  yard-stick ;  but  at 
a  hundred  feet  or  more  in  depth  the  course  of  the  vein  resembles 
rather  a  crack  in  ice  made  by  a  heavy  blow — there  are  whims,  drop- 
pers, feeders,  cross-courses,  dips,  spurs,  angles,  variations  and  sinuosi- 
ties. Now,  if  you  locate  your  patent  on  a  cross-course,  and  I  after- 
wards  locate  mine  on  the  main  vein,  and  we  run  together  a  hundred 
feet  down,  the  question  is  whether  the  older  location  or  the  truer  one 
should  hold.  In  new  mining  camps  "  first  blood  "  generally  holds, 


COLORADO.  467 

regardless  of  law.  One  set  of  judges  have  held  that  the  title  follows 
the  vein,  when  proved  that  it  is  the  main  vein,  no  matter  whether  it 
agrees  with  the  patent  on  the  surface  or  not ;  but  another  class  holds 
that  this  contradicts  the  old  principle  of  common  law — that  the 
owner  on  the  surface  "  owns  from  zenith  to  nadir/'  and  that  if  one's 
vein  runs  under  another's,  the  latter  holds,  regardless  of  priority. 
Evidently  that  old  rule  must  be  abrogated  as  to  mining  property,  and 
the  title  follow  the  main  vein  wherever  it  goes,  if  we  are  ever  to  have 
certainty.  In  the  Sherman  and  Caribou  mines  a  light  can  be  seen  a 
hundred  yards  along  the  vein  in  the  deepest  workings. 

The  great  Caribou  mine  has  been  so  often  described  that  the  sub- 
ject has  become  stale,  but  its  history  has  the  elements  of  romance. 
It  was  discovered  December  23,  1869,  and  located  in  the  names  of 
W.  J.  Martin,  Samuel  Mishler,  George  Lytle,  Hugh  McCameron, 
John  H.  Pickle  and  Henry  Mishler.  By  them  it  was  worked  till 
September,  1870,  paying  almost  from  the  start.  But  the  discoverers 
were  not  very  well  posted,  and  as  a  rule  the  locators  make  little  or 
nothing  out  of  a  mine.  They  sold  out  rather  cheap,  nobody  knows 
for  how  much,  and  one-half  the  mine  became  the  property  of  Abel 
D.  Breed,  Esq.,  with  attorneyship  for  the  other  half.  Sixty  thousand 
dollars  were  spent  in  development,  and  erecting  house  and  machinery 
for  working;  but  ore  enough  was  taken  out  meantime  to  leave  a  clear 
profit  of  $175,000.  This  demonstrated  its  great  richness  beyond  a 
doubt,  and  it  was  put  upon  the  foreign  market.  A  small  corps  of 
foreign  engineers  examined  and  reported  upon  it,  and  as  a  result  it 
was  sold  to  the  mining  company  Nederland,  of  Hague,  Holland,  for 
$3,000,000.  It  was  then  worked  according  to  scientific  principles, 
under  the  superintendency  of  Mr.  Benjamin  Rule.  Three  eight-hour 
shifts  were  employed,  and  no  work  was  done  on  Sunday.  No  man  was 
allowed  about  the  mine  in  a  state  of  intoxication ;  one  appearance  in  that 
character  was  cause  for  a  discharge.  The  printed  rules,  conspicuously 
posted,  to  which  every  employe  subscribes,  also  forbade  all  profane, 
obscene  or  abusive  language.  It  is  estimated  by  the  best  judges  that 
there  are  at  least  twenty-one  claims  with  clearly  defined  veins,  known 
to  be  of  some  value,  on  the  entire  hill.  Ore  from  each  of  these, 
selected  at  random  and  mixed,  was  sent  in  bulk  to  Johnson,  Matheny 
&  Co.,  of  Hatton  Garden,  E.  C.,  London,  and  yielded  a  hundred  and 
ninety-two  ounces  of  silver  per  ton.  Of  course  so  many  veins  known, 
and  more  suspected,  have  stimulated  the  formation  of  tunnel  companies, 
and  no  less  than  half  a  dozen  tunnels  were  started  into  Caribou  Hill, 
which  is  very  favorably  situated  for  that  work.  The  hill  has  a 


468  WESTERN  WILDS. 

general  course  east  and  west.  Towards  the  north  (or  rather  east  of 
north)  it  falls  away  abruptly  to  a  beautiful  circular  park.  In  all 
other  directions  than  towards  Caribou  the  inclosing  walls  of  the  park 
rise  in  gentle  rounded  hills,  closed  with  heavy  forests  of  pine.  From 
the  various  gulches  run  clear  streams  to  the  center  of  the  valley,  form- 
ing a  creek  large  enough  for  milling  purposes;  and  far  to  the  north- 
east stretch  extensive  pastures  in  the  vales  and  timber  on  the  ridges. 
In  that  part  is  the  best  locality  for  a  quartz  mill  which  the  vicinity 
•affords,  and  consequently  all  the  tunnel  claims  are  located  on  that 
side.  They  lie  only  a  thousand  feet  apart,  as  the  law  allows  each  one 
that  space,-  and  if  completed  will  undermine  the  entire  hill  in  sections 
of  a  thousand  feet  each,  striking  the  various  lodes  at  a  depth  of  from 
five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet.  The  law  allows  a  tunnel  company 
five  hundred  feet  on  any  lode  they  strike,  "  not  located  on  the  surface 
at  the  date  the  tunnel  site  was  located."  But  if  the  owner  of  any 
mine  opened  above  proposes  to  dispute  title,  the  burden  of  proof  is  on 
him  to  trace  connection,  which  it  will  obviously  take  him  some  time 
to  do,  and  for  this  reason  and  the  greater  convenience  of  shipping  ore 
through  that  channel,  the  interests  generally  unite. 

From  Caribou  I  took  the  mountain  road  across  to  Central  City — 
site  of  the  far-famed  Gregory  Gulch  Diggings,  and  thence  to  Idaho 
City,  and  up  to  Georgetown.  The  way  was  over  mountain  meadows, 
mingling  the  rich  green  with  bright-hued  flowers;  through  dark  pine 
forests  and  down  lonely  gulches,  where  the  indefatigable  prospectors 
had  dotted  all  the  slopes  with  holes  in  search  of  "indications."  Some- 
times the  route  lay  over  levels  where  one  could  scarcely  believe  him- 
self on  a  mountain,  though  we  were  from  eight  to  nine  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea ;  and  sometimes  in  depressions  we  saw  heavy  crops  of 
rye  and  potatoes,  ripening  in  late  August,  a  mile  and  a  half  above  the 
Missouri  Valley.  Near  Central  City  hundreds  of  acres  of  bare  gray 
rocks  show  where  the  surface  soil  has  been  "  piped  off"  to  get  at  the 
gold  dust;  and  in  a  few  places  gangs  of  Chinese  are  still  at  work  on 
the  poorest  diggings,  long  since  abandoned  by  whites.  But  placer 
mining  in  this  vicinity  has  long  yielded  to  quartz  mining,  and  the  few 
Chinese  at  the  time  of  my  visit  were  even  worse  regarded  than  in 
California.  A  fire,  a  few  weeks  before,  had  laid  a  large  section  of  the 
city  in  ruins ;  and,  as  it  originated  among  the  Mongolians,  they  were 
for  a  long  time  forbidden  to  come  into  the  upper  part  of  town.  But 
the  poor,  pathetically  patient  race,  bided  its  time  and  held  its  own. 

My  summer's  work  was  done,  and  while  September  heats  still  lin- 
gered on  the  plains,  we  left  the  cool  air  of  Georgetown  for  the  journey 


COLORADO  469 

to  Salt  Lake  City.  From  Denver  to  Cheyenne  the  mixed  train 
jogged  along  all  one  bright  autumn  day :  to  our  left  the  blue 
mountains,  the  broad  plains  to  our  right;  sometimes  over  flats 
almost  as  level  as  the  sea,  sometimes  through  gently  rolling  val- 
leys, and  more  rarely  along  the  course  of  creeks  long  since  dried 
up.  On  the  level  the  plains  present  that  uniform  gray-brown  ap- 
pearance which  is  natural  to  them  at  this  season;  but  on  some  of 
the  slopes  and  in  all  the  little  valleys  were  narrow  strips  of  rich 
green,  and  a  soil  looking  as  if  it  might  be  made  productive.  As 
we  progressed  broad  lakes  continually  appeared,  shone  for  a  few 
moments  or  for  hours,  then  passed  out  of  sight;  sometimes  to  the 
eastward  but  oftener  straight  ahead,  the  hills  beyond  beautifully  re- 
flected from  their  mirror  like  surfaces.  But  as  the  train  bore  down 
towards1  them  they  shifted  again  and  again  ;  sometimes  moving  off 
upon  the  eastern  plain,  sometimes  keeping  the  same  distance  ahead, 
and  yet  again  rising  slowly  into  the  air  till  lost  in  the  clouds.  But 
of  real  honest  water,  there  was  not  a  drop,  for  where  there  is 
enough  of  that  to  make  humid  the  atmosphere  the  mirage  is  rarely 
seen.  These  were  the  "lying  waters"  of  which  Spanish  explorers 
tell,  and  which,  before  they  were  so  well  known,  lured  many  a  voya- 
geur  from  his  course  and  to  his  death.  As  the  country  is  settled  it 
is  remarked  that  this  mirage  is  more  and  more  rare;  but  the  best 
time  and  place  to  see  it  is  on  the  dry  plains  of  California,  of  a  hot 
afternoon  in  August. 

An  hour  we  stopped  at  Greeley,  the  noted  "Yankee  Settlement," 
now  the  center  of  a  rich  and  well  cultivated  tract.  The  shade  trees 
early  planted  by  the  colonists  already  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  plains ; 
the  dark  mountains  furnish  a  splendid  background,  and  in  ten  years 
more  this  town  will  rival  in  rural  beauty  the  nicest  New  England 
village.  Soon  after  we  passed  the  "Wyoming  line  ;  but  a  year  after  I 
returned,  for  further  travels  in  Colorado.  The  summary  in  the  next 
chapter  is  from  notes  and  careful  study  during  both  visits. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE   CENTENNIAL   STATE. 

DON  FRANCISCO  VASQUEZ  CORONADO,  (the  chronicle  does  not  give 
his  other  name,)  was  the  first  Pike's  Peaker.  In  1541  he.  set  out  from 
the  City  of  Mexico  to  find  and  conquer  the  "  Seven  Cities  of  Cibola," 
where,  according  to  the  reports  of  reliable  gentlemen  and  the  common 
belief  of  all  New  Spain,  gold  was  so  plentiful  that  the  Cibolans  used 
it  for  the  manufacture  of  common  utensils,  while  their  houses  were 
lighted  with  precious  stones,  and  silver  was  not  accounted  of.  His 
command  consisted  of  some  seven  hundred  cavaliers  and  gentlemen 
of  the  New  Spain  nobility,  who  gladly  sold  all  they  had  to  outfit,  as- 
suring the  reporters  of  Mexico  City  that  "neither  themselves  nor 
their  families  would  ever  need  more  gold  than  they  should  bring  back 
from  the  Seven  Cities."  They  marched  and  fought,  and  fought  and 
marched :  up  the  Colorado  to  the  mouth  of  the  Gila,  up  the  Gila  to 
the  Casas  Grandes  and  northward  across  Arizona  to  the  Rio  San  Juan. 
They  penetrated  what  is  now  Colorado,  then  turned  south-east  to 
where  Santa  Fe  now  stands,  and  still  their  Indian  guides  assured  them 
the  golden  Cibola  of  their  hopes  was  a  little  further  on.  After  a  brief 
rest,  having  destroyed  a  few  Pueblo  towns  and  temples,  and  burnt 
their  idols  for  the  truth's  sake,  they  crossed  the  mountains  and 
marched  down  nearly  to  the  center  of  the  present  Indian  Territory, 
and  still  found  no  Cibola,  no  gold,  and  no  rich  kingdom.  Then  the 
inevitable  quarrel  arose,  the  expedition  broke  up,  and  the  cavaliers  re- 
turned to  Mexico,  seven  years  older,  considerably  poorer,  and  some- 
what wiser  than  they  left  it.  But  they  added  to  Spanish  territory,  by 
the  apostolical  right  of  discovery,  an  area  twelve  times  the  size  of 
Ohio;  the  same  since  added  to  our  free  Republic  by  the  slaveholder's 
right  of  conquest,  and  payment  of  ten  million  dollars.  A  fas- 
cinating account  of  Coronado's  expedition  was  written  by  a  Span- 
ish gentleman  in  the  party,  a  Mr.  Castenada,  who  was  born  three 
centuries  too  soon.  He  should  have  lived  in  our  day  and 
been  a  "Washington  correspondent;  he  had  the  requisite  fancy  and 
power  of  romantic  embellishment,  and  was  pious  to  a  fault.  He 
would  have  consented  to  the  death  of  all  the  heathen  in  the  new  ter- 

(470) 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  471 

ritory,  if  they  had  stood  in  the  way  of  consecrating  the  gold  to  Cath- 
olic uses. 

Many  other  expeditions  did  the  Spaniards  make,  but  few  of  them 
came  north  of  the  Arkansas.  Finally,  some  two  hundred  years  ago, 
Northern  New  Mexico  was  settled,  and  thereafter  by  degrees  the 
Spanish  outposts  extended  up  to  the  Raton  Mountains  and  into  the 
rich  parks  and  valleys  where  head  the  affluents  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
So  those  who  speak  of  Colorado  as  so  new  a  country,  would  do  well  to 
remember  that  a  part  of  it  is  older  than  Ohio.  Two  hundred  years 
passed  away  and  under  the  auspices  of  President  Jefferson,  Colonel 
Zebulon  Pike  explored  "that  part  of  Louisiana  which  lieth  along  the 
foot  of  the  Sierra  Madre"  (Rocky  Mountains),  and  in  the  summer  of 
1806,  gazed  with  wonder  on  the  snow-capped  summit  of  Pike's  Peak. 
This  he  set,  with  some  hesitation,  at  17,500  feet  high.  Later  and 
more  accurate  explorers  have  reduced  his  estimate  some  3,000  feet. 
Proceeding  southward  he  was  captured  and  imprisoned  by  the  sus- 
picious Captain-General  of  New  Mexico;  and  to  this  day  many  are 
the  legends  among  the  Mexicans  about  the  "fair-haired  Americano," 
and  the  gallantry  (in  its  double  sense)  of  his  men. 

As  early  as  1820,  Colorado  was  traversed  in  all  directions  by  white 
hunters  and  trappers,  and  in  1840  the  eastern  section  contained  several 
trading  posts,  among  which  Fort  Lancaster,  on  the  Platte,  and  Bent's 
Fort,  on  the  Arkansas,  were  most  prominent.  In  1842,  twelve  Amer- 
icans took  unto  themselves  Mexican  wives,  and  employed  their  dark 
relations  in  erecting  a  fort,  which  was  the  foundation  of  the  present 
American  city  of  Pueblo ;  and  about  the  same  time  twenty  families  of 
whites  and  half-breeds  made  a  settlement  on  or  near  the  Fontaine  Que 
Bouille.  Thus  stood  the  population  for  many  years.  From  midsum- 
mer till  Christmas  there  was  hunting,  trapping  and  fighting  Indians; 
then  the  nomadic  inhabitants — they  could  not  by  any  stretch  of  lan- 
guage be  called  settlers — gathered  to  the  trading-posts  and  spent  the 
proceeds  of  their  season's  work.  At  each  post  was  a  medley  of 
traders,  trappers  and  hunters,  white,  Mexican  and  Indian;  their 
amusements,  racing,  gambling,  dancing  and  drinking,  varied  by  fre- 
quent bloody  fights,  whereof  the  accounts  are  sometimes  amusing, 
oftener  disgusting.  These  contests  were  nearly  always  over  dis- 
puted property — chiefly  horses  or  women,  both  of  which  were  very 
valuable — helped  in  no  small  degree  by  the  villainous  whisky  dis- 
pensed by  the  American  Fur  Company.  Almost  every  prominent 
point  in  Eastern  Colorado  received  its  name  from  some  tragic  occur- 
rence. Instance  the  following:  Fifteen  Mexicans  from  Taos  quar- 


472  WESTERN   WILDS. 

reled  with  about  an  equal  number  of  Americans  at  Fort  Lancaster, 
about  a  trade  of  horses  and  furs.  The  Americans  ambushed  them  and 
stampeded  all  their  stock.  The  Mexicans  took  arms  and  advanced  on 
their  foes;  then,  the  commandantes  on  each  side  being  leaders  and 
spokesmen,  ensued  the  following: 

Mexican — "  Que  quiere  caballero!"     (What  do  you  want,  sir?) 

American — "  Yo  tengo  lo  caballardo — porque  dicirme  esta?"  (I  have 
your  horses — why  do  you  ask  ?) 

"  Caraho,  Americano!"  shouted  the  Mexican,  bringing  his  gun  to 
his  shoulder;  but  the  American  was  too  quick  with  his  pistol  and  laid 
the  other  prostrate,  the  ball  passing  through  him  just  below  the  heart. 
The  result  was  "the  survival  of  the  fittest/'  and  the  "superior  race" 
retired  with  their  booty.  An  appeal  to  the  trading  company  at 
the  fort  brought  an  international  council,  which  resulted  in  an 
amicable  settlement.  The  wounded  man  recovered  in  three  months, 
and  the  place  was  thenceforth  known  as  "  Greaser's  Gulch." 

Herring  and  Beer  were  mountaineers,  companions  and  friends,  who 
paid  court  to  the  same  senorita.  Herring  married  her,  and  Beer 
grossly  insulted  him,  with  intent  to  bring  on  a  quarrel  and  kill  him. 
A  duel  was  agreed  on,  and  Beer,  who  was  a  crack  shot,  confidently 
expected  to  kill  Herring,  who  was  considered  a  poor  "off-hand  marks- 
man." They  met,  attended  by  their  friends,  who  arranged  that  the 
shooting  was  to  be  at  any  time  the  principals  chose  in  the  count  be- 
tween the  word  fire  and  three.  At  the  word  fire,  the  ball  of  Beer's 
rifle  buried  in  a  cottonwood  just  over  Herring's  head;  at  the  word 
three,  Herring's  ball  pierced  the  heart  of  Beer,  who  was  buried  in  the 
gulch  where  he  fell.  When  I  visited  it  long  afterward  the  gulch  was 
still  known  as  "  Beer's  Folly." 

Sadder,  more  bloody  and  more  romantic  was  the  episode  of  Vaughn 
and  La  Bonte,  life  long  companions  and  friends,  but  destined  to  ex- 
emplify the  deadly  bitterness  of  "love  to  hatred  turned."  Together 
they  had  traversed  every  trail  on  the  plains  and  trapped  on  every 
stream  in  the  mountains;  at  the  old  Arkansas  crossing  they  had  fought 
side  by  side  against  the  murderous  Kioways;  they  had  taken  beaver 
together  on  Clear  Creek,  and  gnawed  the  same  bone  in  the  extremity 
of  hunger  when  overtaken  too  early  by  the  winter  storms.  Common 
ianger  and  suffering  creates  strange  friendships.  Perhaps  it  is  not  the 
intelligent  social  comity  which  unites  men  of  some  cultivation;  per- 
haps it  is  more  like  an  exaggeration  of  that  kinship  which  makes  even 
dumb  animals  cling  to  each  other,  and  in  a  mysterious  way  mourn 
another's  death.  Be  that  as  it  may,  a  little  cloud,  no  bigger  than  a 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  473 

man's  hand  or  a  woman's  face,  rose  on  the  horizon  of  their  friendship. 
Chance  expressions  were  repeated  with  additions;  petulant  remarks, 
which  the  speaker  was  sorry  for  ere  they  died  upon  the  air,  grew  from 
lip  to  lip  and  reached  the  other's  ears  as  vile  slanders;  for  "mutual 
friends"  are  as  busy  and  blundering  in  the  wilds  as  in  the  city. 

Vaughn,  the  elder,  was  a  grizzled  mountaineer,  with  the  dry  humor 
of  a  "  Tennessee  Yankee " ;  his  sarcasm  was  cutting,  and  he  affected 
an  indifference  to  woman's  charms.  La  Bonte,  on  the  contrary,  had 
all  the  impetuosity  of  the  Frenchman,  which  had  survived  through 
all  the  generations  since  his  forefathers  settled  in  Canada.  The  life 
of  a  voyageur  and  trapper  had  only  heightened  his  mercurial  tempera- 
ment; he  was  a  backwoods  dandy,  and  adorned  his  person  with  the 
handiwork  of  squaws.  One  fine  morning  in  1843,  they  rode  into  the 
Pueblo  fort  fast  friends,  as  they  persuaded  themselves,  having  settled 
their  little  differences;  that  night  they  parted  rivals,  and  consequently 
enemies.  This  transformation  was  affected  by  the  smiles  of  a  brown 
mestizo,,  who  had  previously  pledged  her  "punic  faith"  to  Vaughn, 
but  to-day,  seeing  La  Bonte  for  the  first  time,  was  charmed  by  his 
youthful  gallantry  and  French  display.  To  the  older  hunter  this  was 
blackest  treachery  on  the  part  of  his  friend;  to  the  younger  it  was 
fair  emulation.  A  week  after,  they  met  at  a  trappers'  rendezvous. 
Hot  words  ensued  and  knives  were  drawn;  but  there  was  no  liquor  on 
the  ground  so  early  in  the  season,  and  friends  separated  them  without 
bloodshed.  Then  spoke  the  Tennesseean: 

"  Compadre,  seem'  what  you  have  been,  I  don't  want  none  o'  your 
blood  on  my  weepins.  Go  you  one  way,  I'll  go  another.  When  this 
season's  over,  let  the  best  man  win  her." 

"I'm  white  on  this  thing,"  replied  La  Bonte ;  "my  hunt  this  year  is 
up  the  Cache  La  Poudre." 

"Then,"  was  the  answer,  "I'll  go  the  Sangre  de  Christo  run  with 
these  men.  No  tricks  now — you  don't  turn  back  to  Pueblo?" 

It  was  settled;  but  unfortunately  for  Vaughn's  resolution  his  party 
lingered,  and  he  was  deputed  to  go  to  Pueblo  for  further  supplies. 
There  he  learned  that  La  Bonte  had  returned,  and,  after  a  brief  court- 
ship of  two  days,  taken  the  mestizo, — his  own,  as  Vaughn  considered 
her — to  one  of  the  northern  posts.  In  all  the  solitary  hours  of  that 
season's  hunt  he  brooded  over  his  wrong,  till  hatred  possessed  his 
soul.  Meanwhile,  as  if  driven  by  fate,  La  Bonte  crossed  the  mount- 
ains, having  found  the  season  bad  on  the  Cache  La  Poudre,  and 
turned  southward  into  the  very  region  he  had  promised  his  rival  to 
avoid.  One  day,  as  Vaughn  rested  his  horse  in  a  pinon  thicket,  he 


474 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


was  suddenly  roused  by  an  intruder,  and  looking  up,  saw  his  enemy, 
the  very  man  who  had  robbed  him,  coming  up  the  gulch.  "Off! "  he 
shouted,  bounding  on  his  horse. 

"Sacre!"  replied  the  Canadian,  construing  this  as  a  menace,  and 
setting  his  horse  at  a  run.  His  rifle  was  already  at  his  shoulder;  the 
other,  in  his  haste,  had  dropped  his  gun,  but  drew  a  pistol  from  his 


r> 


'•THE  ANIMALS  DASHED  MADLY  BREAST  TO  BREAST;  THE  WEAPONS  CRACKED  SIMULTA- 
NEOUSLY." 

belt.  The  spurred  animals  dashed  madly  breast  to  breast;  the 
weapons  cracked  simultaneously,  and  both  men  fell  heavily  to  the 
ground. 

When  Vaughn  came  to  himself,  he  saw  his  late  enemy  and  former 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  475 

friend  lying  dead  near  him.  In  his  own  breast  was  a  gaping  wound, 
from  which  his  life  had  nearly  ebbed  away;  and  the  little  stream  into 
which  he  had  rolled  in  his  delirious  thirst,  was  vermilion  with  his 
blood.  When  picked  up  by  his  friends  he  made  his  first  and  last  al- 
lusion to  the  trouble :  "  A  d — d  good  man  killed  for  a  d — d  bad 
woman — better  stuck  to  my  old  idees." 

Varied  only  by  such  incidents  as  these,  the  first  half  of  the  century 
rolled  away  with  little  of  historic  interest.  But  the  expeditions  of 
Fremont,  the  Mexican  war,  and  acquisition  of  new  territory,  the  gold 
hunters'  invasion  of  California,  the  opening  of  Kansas  to  settlement, 
and  the  Mormon  war  of  1857,  caused  the  whole  region  to  be  thoroughly 
explored,  with  a  view  of  finding  some  shorter  and  better  route  to  the 
Pacific.  All  who  came  this  way  were  eager  for  gold.  If  gold  there 
was,  it  was  only  an  accident  who  should  find  it.  Traditions  of  its 
presence  had  been  numerous  for  a  hundred  years.  Many  an  explorer, 
white  or  Mexican,  had  returned  with  specimens  which  good  judges 
pronounced  gold,  but  somehow  the  clue  was  always  lost.  At  last,  in 

1858,  came  the  right  men.     John  H.   Gregory,   Green  Russell,  and 
other  Georgians,  old  miners  and    familiar  with  the   precious  metals, 
found  what  was  unmistakably  gold;  but  it  was  not  till  the  6th  of  May, 

1859,  that  Gregory    struck  the  gold  diggings  on  North   Clear  Creek, 
which  soon  became  world  renowned  as  the  Gregory  Lode,  and  settled 
affirmatively  the  question  as  to  whether  this  was  a  rich  mineral  region. 
But  the  country  could  not  wait  for  verification ;  nothing  was  needed 
so  badly  in  18.58  as  a  new  excitement.     The  Kansas  troubles  had  been 
happily   settled,  the  Mormon  war  was  over,  and  newspaperdom  was 
dying  of  ennui.     So,  soon  after  a  few   ounces  of  gold  dust  reached 
Leaven  worth,  the  whole  country  was  stirred,  and  for  months  "  Pike's 
Peak"  glared  at  us  in  display  type  from  the  head  of  a  thousand  news 
columns.    Along  with  the  prospector  went  the  able-bodied  correspond- 
ent, and  beat  the  old  Spanish  chroniclers  on  their  own  soil.     AVonder 
was  piled  on  wonder,  and  a  patient  public  accepted  all  as  truth  ;  but  at 
last,  extravagance  run  mad  effected  its  own  cure.      Here  is  a  speci- 
men from  an  Iowa  paper : 

"  We  learn  from  a  gentleman  just  returned  from  the  Peak  that  the  gold  lies  in  bands 
or  strata  down  the  slope.  The  custom  of  the  best  miners  is  to  construct  a  heavy  wooden 
float  with  iron  ribs,  similar  to  a  stone  boat;  this  is  taken  to  the  top  of  the  Peak,  where 
several  men  get  in  and  guide  it  down  over  the  gold  strata.  The  gold  curls  up  on  the 
boat  like  shavings,  and  is  gathered  in  as  they  progress.  This  is  the  usual  method  of 
collecting  it." 

Within  one  year  this  region  received  seventy-five  thousand  Amer- 
icans. The  romance  and  tragedy  of  this  invasion  have  often  beeii 


476  ,  WESTERN  WILDS. 

portrayed.  I  am  here  chiefly  concerned  with  the  genesis  and  evolu- 
tion of  civil  government.  There  was  no  constitutional  authority  in 
the  country,  and  neither  judge  nor  officer  within  five  hundred  miles. 
The  invaders  were  remitted  to  the  primal  law  of  nature,  with,  per- 
haps, the  inherent  rights  of  American  citizenship.  Every  gulch  was 
filling  with  red-hot  treasure  hunters ;  every  bar  was  pock-marked  with 
"prospect  holes;"  timber,  water-rights,  and  town-lots  were  soon  to  be 
valuable,  and  government  was  an  imperative  necessity.  Here  was  a 
fine  field  for  theorists  to  test  their  views  as  to  the  origin  of  civil  law. 
Poet  and  political  romancer  have  described  in  captivating  lines,  the 
descent  of  civil  government  as  a  heaven-born  genius,  full-grown  and 
perfect  from  the  mind  of  Deity.  But  to  the  historian  of  events  is  left 
a  far  less  pleasing  task.  He  can  not  but  see  that  government  is  the 
most  awkward  and  imperfect  of  all  human  inventions.  Here,  as  else- 
where, it  was  a  creature  of  slow,  irregular  growth,  evolved  by  reason 
and  experience  from  the  hopes  and  fears  of  men,  originating  in  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  and  developed  by  necessity  and  concession. 
Four  different  governments  sprang  up  with  concurrent  jurisdiction. 
The  favorite  theory  of  Senator  Douglas,  that  local  self-government 
was  inherent  in  American  citizenship  every-where  in  our  territory, 
seems  to  have  been  adopted  by  a  majority  of  the  first  comers ;  and 
they  straightway  proceeded  to  organize  the  "  Territory  of  Jefferson." 
On  the  6th  of  November,  1858,  an  election  was  held  at  Denver,  and 
H.  J.  Graham  chosen  without  opposition  as  delegate  to  Congress.  He 
went  to  Washington,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  paying  his  own  expenses 
there  all  winter ; '  for  "  Jefferson  "  was  not  admitted.  Nevertheless, 
delegates  from  thirteen  precincts  assembled  the  next  April,  took  the 
preliminary  steps,  and  called  an  organizing  convention  to  meet  in 
August,  1859.  One  hundred  and  sixty -seven  delegates  came  together, 
tried  to  construct  a  State,  and  failed;  but  a  little  later  "Jefferson" 
was  regularly  organized.  An  elected  legislature  assembled  in  Novem- 
ber, listened  to  an  admirable  inaugural  from  Governor  R.  W.  Stecle, 
organized  nine  counties,  granted  charters  for  the  new  towns,  and 
passed  a  very  good  criminal  code  and  body  of  mining  laws.  Mean- 
while, Kansas  had  organized  this  country  into  Arapahoe  County,  and 
to  make  a  sure  thing  of  it,  a  full  set  of  county  officers  were  elected, 
who  exercised  a  sort  of  hop-skip-and-jump  jurisdiction,  bobbing 
around  in  the  mountains,  foot-hills,  or  in  Denver,  wherever  they 
could  get  a  foothold.  But  these  might  be  called  governments  by  am- 
bition, rather  than  by  necessity;  the  latter  kind  were  meanwhile  being 
organized  in  the  mountains  and  ranches. 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  477 

The  first  comers  there  were  generally  in  little  squads,  old  friends 
and  neighbors,  and  each  party  amicably  divided  all  the  gulch  between 
them.  But  ihe  next  year  came  sixty  thousand  more,  who  wanted  a 
show;  and  it  is  highly  creditable  to  the  pioneers  that  rules  were  agreed 
upon  with  so  little  trouble.  The  example  was  set  in  Gregory  Gulch 
(Central  City).  A  mass  meeting  of  miners  was  held  June  8,  1859, 
and  a  committee  appointed  to  draft  a  code  of  laws.  This  committee 
laid  out  boundaries  for  the  district,  and  their  civil  code,  after  some 
discussion  and  amendment,  was  unanimously  adopted  in  mass  meeting, 
July  16,  1859.  The  example  was  rapidly  followed  in  other  districts, 
and  the  whole  Territory  was  soon  divided  between  a  score  of  local 
sovereignties.  But  these  were  only  laws  as  to  property ;  there  was  so 
little  crime  the  first  year  that  none  others  were  needed.  The  Miners' 
Courts,  as  they  were  called,  were  presided  over  by  justices  of  the 
peace,  chosen  by  ballot ;  these,  as  a  matter  of  form,  usually  took  out  a 
commission,  sometimes  from  the  "  Territory  of  Jefferson,"  sometimes 
from  Arapahoe  County,  and  often  from  both. 

But  now  money  began  to  be  plenty,  and  criminals  invaded  the 
country.  The  civil  courts  promptly  assumed  criminal  jurisdiction,  and 
the  year  1860  opened  with  four  governments  in  full  blast.  The 
miners'  courts,  people's  courts,  and  "  provisional  government "  (a 
new  name  for  "  Jeiferson,")  divided  jurisdiction  in  the  mountains; 
while  Kansas  and  the  provisional  government  ran  concurrent  in 
Denver  and  the  valley.  Such  as  felt  friendly  to  either  jurisdiction 
patronized  it  with  their  business.  Appeals  were  taken  from  one  to 
the  other,  papers  certified  up  or  down  and  over,  and  recognized/ 
criminals  delivered  and  judgments  accepted  from  one  court  by 
another,  with  a  happy  informality  which  it  is  pleasant  to  read  of. 
And  here  we  are  confronted  by  an  awkward  fact :  there  was  undoubt- 
edly much  less  crime  in  the  two  years  this  arrangement  lasted  than  in 
the  two  which  followed  the  territorial  organization  and  regular  gov- 
ernment. The  miners  and  ranchers  were,  as  a  rule,  sober  and  indus- 
trious, and  few  atrocious  cases  were  brought  before  the  people's  courts. 
In  Denver  three  homicides  and  two  duels  had  occurred  down  to  April, 
1860  ;  but  soon  after  came  an  invasion  of  thieves  and  ruffians,  and  the 
conflict  there  was  terrible  for  a  time. 

If  any  of  that  class  ventured  into  the  mountains,  the  miners  made 
short  work  of  them.  The  miners'  laws  were  usually  drafted  by  com- 
mittees and  adopted  in  full  mass  meeting,  the  government  being  a  pure 
democracy.  Each  law  began  with  "  Resolved,"  though  it  was 
sometimes  changed,  as  a  matter  of  form,  to  "  Be  it  enacted."  Lawyers 


478  WESTERN  WILDS. 

were  forbidden  to  practice  in  many  districts.     One  law  I  copy  from 
the  records  of  Union  Mining  District: 

"  Resolved,  That  no  lawyer  be  permitted  to  practice  law  in  this  district,  under  penalty 
of  not  more  than  fifty  nor  less  than  twenty  lashes,  and  be  forever  banished  from  this 
district." 

Another  states  that,  "  whereas  Bill  Payne,  commonly  known  as  Cock- 
eye Payne,"  has  committed  certain  outrages,  among  which  drawing 
a  revolver  in  court,  and  threatening  the  judge,  are  made  prominent; 
therefore, 

"  Resolved,  That  a  committee  of  ten  good  men  be  sent  to  bring  in  the  said  Bill  or  Cock- 
eye Payne,  and  he  be  required  to  show  cause  why  he  should  not  immediately  be  hung." 

It  appears  that  he  was  able  to  show  cause,  and  got  off  with  banish- 
ment. 

All  these  little  governments  came  to  an  end  on  the  passage  of  a 
Civil  and  Criminal  Code  by  the  first  Territorial  Legislature,  in  the 
winter  of  1861-'62;  but  this  code  legalized  all  acts  of  previous  govern- 
ments, "not  plainly  contrary  to  justice  or  the  common  law."  It  was 
enacted  that  all  the  district  recorders'  books  should  be  filed  in  the 
office  of  the  county  recorder,  and  be  presumptive  proof,  the  burden 
of  proving  the  contrary  to  rest  on  the  challenger;  and  that  all  decis- 
ions of  former  courts  were  to  be  valid  "  when  both  parties  made  ap- 
pearance or  had  notice  according  to  such  rules  as  were  then  in  force, 
whether  by  law  or  accepted  custom."  The  change  from  local  to  terri- 
torial law  appears  to  have  been  made  without  a  ripple  of  disturbance, 
and  all  disputed  claims  of  any  prominence  have  risen  under  the  pres- 
ent laws.  Thus  is  seen  in  miniature  the  course  of  civil  aggregation  : 
first,  the  individual  man  yields  to  the  local  organization,  then  the  local 
is  slowly  merged  in  the  general.  Government  is  seen  to  be,  not  a  pos- 
itive good,  but  only  a  choice  of  the  lesser  evil.  Man  yields  a  portion 
of  his  natural  rights  in  order  to  preserve  the  rest ;  he  supports  the 
claims  of  others  because  he  must  ask  support  from  them.  Thus,  too, 
is  manifested  the  inherent  capacity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  for  civil  organ- 
ization; and  those  who  maintain  that  government  necessarily  had  its 
origin  in  revelation,  might  profitably  study  the  many  proofs  to  the 
contrary  in  the  settlement  of  the  Far  West. 

Colorado  became  a  Territory  in  1861,  remained  such  fifteen  years, 
and  after  four  desperate  efforts,  at  last  succeeded  in  becoming  a  State, 
just  in  time  to  aid  in  the  election  of  a  centennial  president.  Denver, 
political  and  financial  capital  of  the  new  State,  is  also  the  starting 
point  for  most  places  of  interest.  Thence  by  way  of  the  Narrow- 
guage,  fifty  miles  westward,  and  all  the  way  up-hill,  lands  us  in  the 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  479 

mining  region,  where  we  will  delay  for  a  more  specific  description,  the 
reader  to  look  on  while  the  writer  climbs  and  talks. 

The  lowlander,  whom  business  or  a  love  of  novelty  and  wild 
scenery  leads  to  climb  one  of  the  mountains  around  Georgetown,  finds 
material  for  continual  astonishment  in  the  changes  which  unfold  along 
his  upward  way.  The  white  spots  seen  from  below,  enlarge  to  gray 
faces  on  the  rocky  cliffs,  often  hundreds  of  feet  perpendicular;  the 
darker  shades,  which  seem  from  the  valley  mere  breaks  on  the  view, 
open  to  immense  gorges,  down  which  pour  torrents  of  almost  ice-cold 
water  from  the  snow-fed  lakes  on  the  summit,  and  the  green  plats 
which  pleased  the  eye  as  distant  masses  of  shrubbery  or  thickets  of 
sage-brush,  swell  on  near  approach  to  magnificent  forests  of  mountain 
pine.  The  thin  dyke  of  yellow-gray  rock,  which  seems  to  cap  the 
summit  with  rectangular  blocks,  apparently  smooth  enough  to  have 
been  set  and  polished  by  human  hands,  swells  out  slowly  as  he  climbs, 
till  at  last  it  towers  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  general  summit  level, 
a  solid  battlement  of  weather-beaten  granite  or  trap  rock,  sometimes 
in  monstrous  cubes,  but  oftener  in  broken  and  serrated  pinnacles  like 
saw-teeth,  fully  justifying  the  Spanish  appellation  of  Sierra  (a  saw). 
From  the  streets  of  Georgetown  the  gulches  which  divide  the  spurs 
into  separate  mining  districts  are  barely  visible;  the  face  of  the 
mountain  between  the  more  abrupt  cliffs  is  tolerably  smooth,  and  ex- 
cept the  slope  towards  the  valley  it  seems  that  one  might  drive  a 
wheeled  carriage  along  its  side,  or  that  a  stone  once  started  would 
roll  into  the  city.  Once  on  that  slope,  however,  and  the  marks  are 
found  to  be  gulches  often  a  hundred  feet  in  depth;  and  instead  of  the 
face  of  one  mountain  we  appear  to  have  a  hundred  narrow  "hog- 
backs," in  the  sides  of  which  are  openings  into  the  rock  and  tunnel 
workings  invisible  from  below. 

Our  party  of  seven  sets  out  early,  for  our  first  ascent  of  Griffith 
Mountain  will  occupy  half  a  day,  and  the  first  stage  is  up  the  face  of 
a  bare  rock,  eight  hundred  feet  high,  and  barely  broken  enough  to 
afford  a  foot-path ;  thence  by  a  more  gentle  trail  along  the  foot  of  a 
granite  cliff,  which  rises  three  hundred  feet  almost  perpendicularly. 
And  yet  every  yard  on  its  front  has  been  tried  with  the  pick  or 
sounded  with  the  hammer,  to  see  if  it  contained  mineral:  for  in  just 
such  places  have  been  found  some  of  the  richest  mines  of  the  district. 
A  peculiar  stain  on  the  rock  attracted  attention.  Men  were  let  down 
from  above  to  "  prospect,"  a  crevice  wras  found  with  "  blossom  "  rock, 
and  often  a  platform  anchored  to  the  cliff  till  a  more  permanent  foot- 
ing could  be  blasted  out.  The  celebrated  Stevens'  Mine  was  reached 


480 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


"THIS    WAY    AND    THAT,     IN     ZIQZAGS,    WE    TOIL    UP- 
WARD." 


by  a  rope  ladder  for  months 
after  being  opened  for  work, 
and  even  now  the  workmen 
cling  to  a  guide  rope  as  they 
go  up  the  trail,  and  the  ore 
is  sent  down  by  a  tramway. 
Yet  its  richness  pays  for  the 
trouble. 

A  few  hundred  feet  along 
this  rock-hewn  path  bring 
us  to  the  half-way  gulch  and 
a  beautiful  spring.  Down 
this  rock  flume  runs  one  of 
those  brawling  brooks  which 
are  the  delight  of  poets  and 
artists;  and  yet  the  mouth 
of  the  gulch,  only  half  a 
mile  below,  is  but  a  dry  bed. 
Of  all  the  streams  that  rise 
far  up  in  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains, not  one  in  ten  reaches 
any  valley  or  joins  another 
stream;  and  all  the  streams 
of  all  this  slope  combined 
do  not  furnish  the  Platte 
water  enough  to  last  it  a 
hundred  miles  from  the 
mountains.  Here  we  rest 
and  refresh,  tighten  straps, 
and  then  climb  out  of  the 
gulch  and  enter  on  a  series 
of  more  gentle  slopes,  alter- 
nating pine  groves  and  grass 
plats.  This  way  and  that, 
in  zigzag  paths,  we  toil  up- 
ward, often  leaning  on  our 
staves  and  resting  every 
hundred  yards  or  so,  for  at 
this  point  our  breath  begins 
to  come  short,  and  if  any 
way  delicate,  we  feel  that 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  481 

fluttering  of  the  heart  and  beating  in  the  temples  which  result  from 
an  attenuated  atmosphere.  Here  is  the  original  home  of  the  mount- 
ain sheep.  On  these  grassy  knolls  they  kept  fat  from  August  till 
January,  and  when  Georgetown  was  first  settled  they  were  slaughtered 
here  by  hundreds.  This  mountain  bunch-grass  and  the  finer  grass  on 
the  higher  slopes  furnished  them  abundant  feed  till  covered  by  the 
deep  snows  of  January  and  February,  as  the  snows  are  light  here 
before  that  time.  When  the  snow  melted  in  April  and  May,  all  the 
sweetness  left  the  grass,  and  the  big-horn  "lived  on  his  fat"  till  June 
or  July  again.  Black-tailed  deer,  too,  were  plenty,  and  occasionally 
a  grizzly  bear  made  the  solitudes  lively;  now  these  animals  are  rarely 
seen  this  side  of  the  summit,  though  sheep  horns  can  be  picked  up 
frequently,  and  adorn  the  front  of  many  a  miner's  cabin. 

We  toil  slowly  up  over  these  knolls  for  an  hour,  -at  each  turn  the 
summit  seeming  just  before  us.  The  grassy  region  passed,  we  enter  on 
the  more  rocky  belt  near  the  summit,  and  how  mines  are  abundant 
and  miners'  cabins  appear  on  every  hand,  sometimes  built  on  a  narrow 
flat,  worked  on  the  face  of  the  slope,  and  again  anchored  with  iron 
supports  upon  some  projecting  rock.  At  intervals  we  encounter  pack 
trains  coming  down  with  ore,  the  little  Mexican  burros  (donkeys) 
carrying  immense  raAvhide  panniers  filled  with  the  minerals,  and  near 
the  summit  encounter  a  party,  consisting  of  one  gentleman  and  three 
ladies,  cautiously  descending  from  the  Highland  Park.  We  see  at  a 
glance  that  they  are  Eastern  people,  as  the  resident  ladies  generally 
ride  burros,  sitting  astride  a  sort  of  modified  pack-saddle,  but  these 
have  ponies  and  the  Eastern  side-saddle.  The  trail  looks  terrible,  but 
horsemen  sometimes  get  down  this  way,  by  walking  in  the  worst 
places. 

It  is  three  hours  since  we  left  the  valley,  and  we  stand  at  last  on 
the  edge  of  the  tolerably  level  summit,  but  across  a  sort  of  meadow  is 
the  foot  of  the  last  rocky  ridge,  which  still  towers  from  five  to  fifteen 
hundred  feet  above  us.  But  this  serrated  battlement  is  not  contin- 
uous on  these  sub-ranges,  which  are  mere  spurs  of  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains; it  stands  out  rather  in  detached  peaks,  leaving  between  them 
large  sections  of  the  summit  level,  over  which  a  vehicle  might  be 
driven  without  difficulty.  Every  miner's  cabin  is  the  house  of  n 
friend,  and  in  the  nearest  we  find  some  hot  coffee  to  moisten  our  cold 
lunch  ;  then  climb  to  the  highest  point,  and  with  a  good  field-glass 
proceed  to  take  views  over  a  circuit  of  a  hundred  miles.  Gray's  and 
Torrey's  peaks  glisten  through  the  clear  air,  seeming  no  morn 

than  two  or  three  miles  away.     To  the  north  and  south  of  them  ex- 
31 


482  WESTERN   WILDS. 

tends  the  main  dividing  range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  now  spotted 
dull  gray  and  dazzling  white  by  alternations  of  bare  rock  and  gulches 
filled  with  snow.  But  the  day,  though  beautiful  and  mild,  is  too  hazy 
for  us  to  see  the  Holy  Cross.  This  is  formed  by  two  enormous  rifts 
in  the  mountain  side  near  the  summit,  crossing  each  other  at  right 
angles,  and  never  bare  of  snow.  The  two  white  lines  form  an  exact 
Greek  cross,  which  glitters  in  the  sunlight  of  a  bright  day,  being 
thrown  into  bold  relief  by  the  dark  gray  face  of  the  mountain. 

From  our  standpoint  we  look  down  a  thousand  feet  upon  summits, 
which,  from  Georgetown,  seem  so  high  as  almost  to  be  lost  in  the 
clouds.  But  the  greatest  sight  is  to  the  eastward.  For  a  hundred 
miles  out  from  the  base  of  the  mountains  the  plains  seem  to  rise,  and 
the  blue  line  which  marks  the  visible  horizon  appears  just  on  a  level 
with  our  eyes.  But  the  plains  there  are  at  least  seven  thousand  feet 
lower  than  our  location.  This  phenomenon  I  have  often  observed 
from  commanding  positions  in  the  mountains,  and  can  understand  the 
statement  of  aeronauts,  that  as  they  rise  the  region  directly  under  them 
seems  to  sink  slowly  into  a  basin,  while  the  surrounding  country  re- 
mains on  a  level  with  them. 

The  area  we  can  thus  survey  with  one  quick  glance  now  contains 
at  least  fifteen  thousand  miners  and  twice  as  many  citizens  and  agri- 
culturists. In  the  year  1861  the  site  of  central  Georgetown  was  an 
immense  beaver  dam,  the  largest  in  this  part  of  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains, and  known  to  trappers  and  Indians  all  over  the  country.  Even 
now,  on  some  of  the  lowest  lots  in  town,  the  effects  of  beaver  work 
can  be  seen  ;  and  the  rich,  mucky  soil  on  the  common  shows  that  it 
was  the  bed  of  their  pond  for  long  series  of  years.  The  first  pros- 
pectors who  pitched  their  tent  on  Clear  Creek  amused  themselves  on 
many  a  moonlight  evening  by  watching  the  beavers  play.  Then  the 
mountain  sheep  crowded  these  glades  in  hundreds,  and  for  months  the 
early  settlers  had  no  other  meat.  The  black-tailed  deer  came  in  about 
the  season  when  mutton  was  scarce.  The  brown  bear,  and  more 
rarely  the  grizzly,  lived  in  the  timber  below  us.  Even  now  traces  of 
these  animals  are  met  with  frequently  among  the  hills.  Then,  instead 
of  the  miner's  cabin,  or  the  mouth  of  shaft  or  tunnel,  one  might  have 
seen  the  unscarred  face  of  nature  ;  and  in  place  of  pack-trains  laden 
with  ore,  or  miners  toiling  up  the  steep  trails,  a  band  of  Utes  moving 
through  the  mountain  passes,  and  sallying  out  upon  the  plains  to  at- 
tack their  hereditary  enemies,  the  Sioux  and  Arapahoes.  Surely  there 
was  as  much  beauty  in  these  scenes  then  as  now.  And  yet  how  sel- 
dom the  white  men  who  saw  this  country,  cultivated  and  intelligent  as 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  483 

some  of  them  were,  speak  of  its  sublime  scenery.  Their  narratives  are 
full,  however,  of  allusions  to  scenes  of  blood  and  danger,  to  frowning 
precipices,  where  one  misstep  was  destruction,  and  to  lonely  gorges 
where  ambushed  savages  might  let  fly  upon  the  unwary  traveler  a 
shower  of  arrows.  Only  security  and  a  touch  of  civilization  enable 
us  to  appreciate  wild  beauty  and  grandeur.  Small  is  the  pleasure  one 
can  take  in  the  brawling  brook,  when,  stooping  to  taste  its  ice-cold 
waters,  he  is  liable  to  get  an  arrow  in  his  back ;  in  the  wondrous 
cafion  walls,  where  every  turn  may  reveal  an  enemy;  in  the  sweep  of 
the  bald  eagle,  where  the  next  occupation  of  that  eagle  may  be  in 
picking  the  meat  from  his  bones,  or  in  the  antics  of  the  "  noble  red 
man  "  when  that  (supposed)  nobility  is  his  only  security  for  life. 

The  richest  mineral  region  is  on  the  mountains  west  and  south-west 
of  Georgetown.  First  is  the  Silver  Plume  group.  There  the  Pay 
Rock  has  an  eighteen-inch  vein  of  ore,  zinc  blende,  very  rich  in  silver. 
Down  hill  therefrom  is  the  celebrated  group  including  the  Dives,  Dun- 
kirk and  Pelican.  These  locations  are  stuck  in  so  thick  that  the  pat- 
ents overlap  each  other  in  all  directions,  and  a  completed  map  of  all 
the  claims  looks  like  a  picture  of  a  pile  of  boards  thrown  at  random  on 
the  ground,  and  half  covering  each  other.  Out  of  a  little  plat,  per- 
haps half  a  mile  long  and  a  quarter  wide,  has  come  $10,000,000  worth 
of  ore.  The  Dives  alone  shipped  $640,000  worth  in  forty  days ;  and, 
pending  certain  legal  proceedings,  $90,000  worth  was  shipped  between 
midnight  Saturday  and  midnight  Sunday.  [An  attachment  can  not  be 
levied  in  Colorado  on  Sunday.]  Besides  paying  enormous  dividends, 
several  of  these  mines  keep  two  or  three  good  lawyers  in  pay,  and 
support  expensive  lawsuits.  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  much  actual  cash 
has  been  paid  out  on  the  Dives- Pelican  suit.  The  lowest  guess  here 
is  $100,000,  but  it  is  probable  a  great  deal  has  changed  hands  very 
quietly,  and  without  knowledge  of  the  public. 

Two  hundred  feet  below  is  the  Baxter,  famous  for  its  wire  silver,  of 
which  I  have  seen  specimens  that  looked  like  a  "  witch-ball,"  or  mass 
of  tangled  hair  turned  to  pure  silver.  Of  course  there  is  not  much 
of  that  sort  of  stuff,  and  where  it  appears  on  the  face  of  rich  rock 
it  looks  as  if  it  had  stewed  out  of  the  stone  and  curled  from  intense 
heat.  Most  of  it  is  found  in  bunches  lining  the  inside  of  little  pock- 
ets in  the  stone,  and  projecting  from  a  streaked  rock  we  used  to  call 
in  Utah  "  polygamy  lime  rock."  To  discover  a  mine  in  that  neigbor- 
hood  was  nothing;  the  great  trouble  was  to  sink  a  shaft  down  to" 
where  the  ore  was  concentrated,  and  then  put  up  the  machinery  neces- 
sary to  work  it.  Some  of  these  mines  originally  sold  for  a  trifle,  com- 


484  WESTERN   WILDS. 

paratively;  then  the  buyers  had  to  spend  $40,000  in  development, 
since  when  they  have  paid  for  themselves  a  dozen  times  over.  The 
Pelican  Mine  extends  directly  across  Cherokee  Gulch  and  on  to 
Sherman  Mountain.  A  little  beyond  are  the  Maine,  .Coldstream, 
Phoenix,  Scotia  and  Captain  Wells,  merely  different  claims  along  the 
same  vein,  all  very  rich,  and  supposed  to  be  a  continuation  of  the 
same  ore-channel  as  the  Pelican-Dives.  Half  a  mile  or  more  along 
the  steep  face  of  Sherman  Mountain,  barely  passable  by  a  foot  trail, 
brings  us  to  Brown  Gulch,  and  beyond  it  Brown  Mountain.  Directly 
across  the  gulch  are  several  valuable  mines'.  Near  the  top  are  the 
Hercules  and  Seven-thirty.  After  innumerable  lawsuits  and  fights, 
the  killing  of  one  man  and  wounding  of  two  others,  the  claimants  of 
these  two  locations  compromised  interests,  and  sold  both  for  $180,000. 
Now,  under  the  name  of  East  Row,  it  is  paying  handsomely.  Down 
the  hill-side,  and  also  crossing  the  gulch,  is  the  Brown  Mine,  which 
has  paid  for  itself  half  a  dozen  times  over.  Still  lower — in  fact,  only 
three  or  four  hundred  feet  above  Clear  Creek — is  the  celebrated  Ter- 
rible, probably  the  best  managed  mine  in  the  district,  though  far  from 
being  the  richest.  It  was  bought  of  the  locators  by  a  company  in 
Cornwall,  England,  for  $500,000,  and  yielded  $150,000  annually, 
varying  but  little  from  one  year  to  another. 

Successful  mining  in  Colorado  is  of  necessity  deep  mining.  Rare, 
indeed,  are  the  cases  in  which  good  pay  rock  is  reached  at  less  than  a 
hundred  feet,  and  in  many  mines  the  best  is  not  reached  under  four  or 
five  hundred  feet.  As  a  rule,  the  larger  the  vein  is  the  farther  it  is  down 
to  where  all  the  ore  in  it  is  concentrated  into  one  rich  seam ;  for  the 
force  which  made  the  seam  of  ore  seems  to  have  been  weakened  or  dis- 
sipated as  it  drew  near  the  surface,  and  a  seam  three  feet  thick  at  a 
depth  of  three  hundred  feet  will  often  be  scattered  in  twenty  little  ir- 
regular strings  toward  the  surface.  The  Dives  is  by  no  means  a 
large  lode,  but  they  sunk  on  it  two  hundred  feet  before  they  found 
the  ore  concentrated  in  one  seam.  The  ore  body  may  aptly  be  com- 
pared to  a  tree,  which,  as  it  rises,  continually  divides  and  subdivides, 
running  out  at  last  to  twigs;  so  the  ore-seam  scatters  until,  at  the  sur-J 
face,  the  prospector  finds  a  hundred  little  lines  or  stems  of  mineral 
scattered  over  a  wide  space.  Hence  it  is  that  silver  mining  here  re- 
quires both  nerve  and  patience,  for  it  takes  time  to  get  down  to  the 
ore  in  this  hard  rock,  where  "  three  shifts"  make  but  six  or  seven  feet 
a  week. 

The  curiosities  of  mining  are  almost  endless.      Here  and  there  on 
the  edge  of  rich  ore-seams  little  accretions  of  almost  pure  silver  have 


THE  CENTENNIAL  8TA  TE.  485 

run  together,  like  "  leaf  lard,"  as  it  were,  and,  according  to  its  purity, 
or  the  chemicals  mixed  in  it,  such  "nibs"  are  known  as  chloride,  horn 
silver,  ruby  silver,  azurite  or  tetrahedrite.  A  change  of  one-tenth  of 
one  per  cent,  in  the  chemical  will  sometimes  change  entirely  the  color 
and  texture  of  the  ore.  "Black-jack,"  or  zinc  blende,  is  a  very  troub- 
lesome combination.  Chunks  of  it  are  found,  which  assay  five  hun- 
dred ounces  of  silver  per  ton,  but  its  reduction  is  very  difficult  and 
expensive.  Azurite  is  a  combination  of  silver  with  blue  carbonates  of 
copper,  and  yields  all  the  way  from  three  hundred  to  a  thousand 
ounces  of  silver  per  ton  Every  year  lower  grade  ores  can  be  profita- 
bly worked,  with  the  improvement  in  methods  and  cheapening  of 
transportation.  When  this  district  was  opened,  in  1864,  ore  must 
yield  a  hundred  ounces  per  ton  to  be  worth  working;  now  thirty- 
ounce  ore  can  be  profitably  treated.  The  laws  as  to  title  in  silver 
mines  are  now  pretty  well  settled;  but  no  law  that  Congress  or 
Territorial  Legislature  could  pass  has  prevented  men  who  stayed  on 
the  ground  from  getting  title  to  thousands  of  "feet"  in  mines.  The 
laws  also  say  something  about  the  preemptor  being  of  voting  age ;  but 
by  "  unwritten  law"  any  able-bodied  lad  of  sixteen  and  upward,  who 
can  do  the  required  work,  can  preempt  sufficiently  to  sell  out  to  an 
adult,  who  can  perfect  the  title.  A  shrewd  lawyer,  of  course,  might 
pick  flaws  in  the  inchoate  title ;  but  it  wrould  be  unhealthy  to  do  so  if 
the  boy  had  any  friends.  Various  laws,  lately  enacted,  give  title  in 
width  also,  allowing  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  on  each  side  of  a  claim 
for  working  purposes.  But  each  county  is  allowed  to  limit  this  by 
popular  vote,  and  many  counties  do.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  origi- 
nal location,  preemption  and  sale,  and  each  successive  transfer,  being 
recorded  in  the  old  district  records,  now  legalized  as  part  of  the  county 
records,  these  titles  are  just  as  susceptible  of  proof  as  those  of  a 
farm. 

Over  the  sub-range  which  bounds  Georgetown  on  the  north-west, 
through  a  lofty  region  of  forests,  parks  and  mountain  meads,  and  over 
another  more  gentle  range,  brings  us  to  North  Clear  Creek  Cafion, 
where  gold  was  first  discovered.  The  gold  placers  have  long  since 
yielded  in  prominence  to  silver  lodes.  On  the  old  Gregory  claim  is 
now  part  of  Central  City,  the  historic  town  of  Colorado.  There 
sprung  up  a  rattling  "city"  of  logs  and  rough-sawed  plank  during 
the  week  that.  Horace  Greeley  was  inspecting  the  mines  in  1859;  and 
there,  for  a  time,  was  the  territorial  capital,  until  the  sudden  and 
amazing  growth  of  Denver  overshadowed  all  the  mountain  towns,  and 
absorbed  all  the  Federal  fat  things.  Mining  in  the  old  Gregory  dis- 


486  WESTERN   WILDS. 

triet  has  long  since  passed  out  of  the  era  of  romantic  uncertainty  and 
excitement  to  that  of  regular  work  and  legitimate  investment.  An- 
other day's  journey  to  the  northward,  over  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
mountains,  and  through  a  region  rich  with  scenic  interest,  brings  us 
to  Caribou,  Nederland,  and  all  that  rich  region  at  the  head  of  Bowl- 
der Creek.  Caribou,  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  on 
a  gentle  slope,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  dense  pine  forest,  was  the  most 
delightful  of  new  mining  towns  when  I  visited  it  in  August,  1874. 

Of  course  that  part  of  Colorado  which  drains  eastward  is  much  the 
best  known  and  developed,  but  beyond  the  main  range  are  many  new 
and  promising  mining  camps,  as  Leadville  and  the  San  Juan  District, 
which  seem  to  lie  across  the  very  center  of  the  great  upheaval  that, 
perhaps,  made  the  mines.  In  every  district  are  ten  times  as  many 
locations  as  will  ever  be  developed,  and  ten  thousand  hopes  that  will 
never  be  realized;  for,  despite  his  plain  surroundings,  the  miner  is  the 
most  romantic  and  imaginative  of  men.  But  his  is  a  singularly  unro- 
mantic  work.  It  implies  cold,  dirt  and  wet,  possibility  of  sudden 
death,  probability  of  severe  injury,  soon  or  late,  and  certainty  of  sore 
trial  and  frequent  disappointments.  The  history  of  a  silver  mine  in- 
cludes these  stages  :  prospecting,  locating,  opening,  developing  and 
working — and  at  every  step  in  development  the  chances  of  final  failure 
are  many.  Thus  it  has  been  well  and  truly  said  that  mining  is  a  lot- 
tery, but  it  should  still  be  remembered  that  this  applies  only  to  finding 
and  developing  mines.  Once  it  has  depth  sufficient  to  prove  it,  and 
has  opened  into  a  regular  vein,  a  mine  is  as  certain  as  any  property  in 
the  world.  But  on  the  surface,  where  the  prospector  makes  his  loca- 
tion according  to  the  "  indications,"  there  is  no  science  that  enables 
him  to  judge  what  it  will  prove  on  depth.  That  he  must  learn  by 
digging,  and  many  are  the  alternations  of  hope  and  fear  as  he  goes 
down.  First  a  little  "  pocket  "  of  rich  sulphurets  raises  his  hopes  to 
fever  heat,  then  comes  a  "cap  "  of  barren  rock,  and  down  they  go  to 
zero  ;  next,  perhaps,  he  finds  the  vein  widening,  with  here  and  there  a 
il  nib  "  of  chloride,  azurite  or  ruby  silver,  and  straightway  his  spirits 
mount  as  on  eagle's  wings ;  again  he  encounters  a  "  pinch  "  or  "  cap," 
and  hope  almost  dies  out  ere  he  gets  through  it.  Sometimes  he  fol- 
lows a  "  pinching  vein,"  scarcely  thicker  than  a  knife-blade,  for  many 
a  week,  at  an  expense  of  fifteen  dollars  a  foot,  hoping  that  it  will  lead 
him  to  the  main  vein.  At  last,  at  the  depth  of  one  hundred  feet  or 
more,  his  varying  crevice  either  opens  into  the  main  vein  and  rewards 
him  a  thousand  fold  for  all  his  toil,  or,  as  it  does  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  it  ends  in  barren  rock,  beyond  which  there  is  no  thoroughfare, 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  487 

proving  it  to  be  a  dip,  spur,  dropper,  gash  vein  or  any  one  of  the 
thousand  things  which  mislead  the  miner.  Not  one  location  in  twenty 
is  ever  pushed  to  the  depth  of  a  hundred  feet ;  of  those  so  pushed  not 
more  than  one  in  ten  proves  a  valuable  mine,  and  even  of  tolerably 
valuable  mines  not  one  in  twenty  proves  a  Caribou,  Pelican,  Dives 
or  a  Comstock.  But  if  every  location  were  as  valuable  as  the  owner 
thinks  it  to  be  when  he  first  starts  down  on  it,  silver  would  soon 
cease  to  be  a  precious  metal.  We  might  manufacture  it  into  door- 
hinges. 

As  a  rule  only  the  developed  and  proved  mines  are  bought  by  East- 
ern companies,  but  in  the  great  speculative  era  of  1864-66,  Colorado 
was  literally  sold  out  to  New  York  capitalists,  who  took  stock  in  the 
future  with  amazing  readiness.  Thirty-eight  companies  were  organ- 
ized, with  an  aggregate  capital  of  $24,000,000 !  And  this  when  all 
the  mines  in  the  Territory  were  not  worth  the  half  of  that  sum. 
Hundreds  of  mere  "prospect  holes"  were  purchased  at  high  figures, 
and  mills  were  erected  to  work  the  ore  before  the  buyers  knew  of 
what  kind  it  was,  or  whether  there  was  one  ton  or  a  million.  The 
era  of  mad  speculation  has  given  place  to  that  of  practical  mining, 
and  Colorado  has  advanced  to  an  annual  yield  in  ore  and  bullion  of 
from  $12,000,000  to  $15,000,000. 

Colorado  is  divided  nearly  down  the  center  by  the  main  chain  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains — or,  in  miner's  phrase,  "  saddle-backed  across 
the  range."  West  of  the  summit  not  one  acre  in  a  thousand  is  fit  for 
any  thing  but  grazing.  As  depressions  in  the  summit  appear  the  great 
parks,  a  curious  and  attractive  feature  of  Colorado.  As  summer  re- 
treats and  grazing  grounds,  they  will  ultimately  be  of  great  value. 
The  slope  eastward  from  the  mountains  is  the  pasture  land  of  the  new 
State.  The  whole  section  is  being  rapidly  dotted  with  ranches,  and 
all  kinds  of  stock  thrive  on  the  nutritious  grasses.  But  it  is  only  on 
the  low  land  along  the  streams  that  farming  can  be  carried  on. 

At  the  heads  of  the  Fontaine  Que  Bouille  and  other  tributaries  of 
the  Arkansas,  bounteous  nature  seems  to  have  exhausted  her  powers 
in  the  way  of  scenery  and  climate.  There  the  sheltered  valleys  open- 
ing to  the  south  are  green  early  in  the  year;  there  reluctant  summer 
lingers  longest,  and  glad  spring  hastens  to  return.  The  hot  pools,  the 
vast  reservoirs  and  bubbling  fountains  of  soda,  the  medicinal  springs, 
the  wooded  parks,  the  gateway  to  the  mountains  and  the  Garden  of 
the  Gods  afford  unfailing  delight.  Over  all  rises  Pike's  Peak,  out- 
lined against  a  sky  of  dazzling  blue,  landmark  for  a  hundred  miles 
in  every  direction.  Around  the  heads  of  all  the  streams  that  feed  the 


488  WESTERN   WILDS. 

Arkansas  are  the  finest  bunch-grass  pastures,  on  which  feed  vast  herds 
of  sheep  and  cattle. 

The  valley  of  the  Arkansas  is  fertile  some  distance  eastward.  But 
a  little  south  the  scene  changes  suddenly,  and  the  extreme  south-east- 
ern part  of  the  Territory  lies  in  that  great  desert  which  includes  all 
the  neighboring  portions  of  Texas,  New  Mexico,  Kansas  and  the  In- 
dian Territory.  There  the  water-holes  are  few  and  far  between;  the. 
thorny  mezquit  alone  can  be  said  to  adorn  the  landscape,  and  the  region 
can  only  be  crossed  at  the  risk  of  death  from  thirst.  On  the  south- 
ern edge  of  this  desert  my  friend,  Thad.  Buckman,  took  refuge  in  a 
mezquit  thicket  from  the  Arapahoes,  and,  though  previously  noted  for 
his  modesty,  when  he  got  out  of  there,  with  his  skin  hanging  in 
ribands,  he  was  the  worst  stuck-up  man  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Every  bush  has  a  thorn  and  every  insect  a  sting ;  all  the  Indians  are 
hostile,  and  if  one  should  meet  a  white  man,  the  chances  are  even  that 
he  is  an  involuntary  exile  and  a  cattle  thief.  The  principal  pro- 
ductions are  mezquit,  tarantulas  and  centipedes. 

The  Arkansas  was  formerly  the  northern  boundary  of  Mexico,  and 
across  this  desert  marched,  in  1843,  from  their  rendezvous  on  that 
stream,  one  of  the  many  Texan  expeditions  against  Santa  Fe.  Its  mem- 
bers are  now  glorified  on  annual  San  Jacinto  days  as  noble  and  devoted 
patriots  to  whom  dishonor  were  worse  than  death  ;  but  I  am  afraid  they 
would  not  know  themselves  in  that  character.  They  arrived  almost 
dead  from  starvation  at  the  Mexican  settlements,  and,  having  supplied 
themselves,  found  that  Governor  Armijo  had  warning  of  their  ap- 
proach; accordingly  they  marched  back  and  disbanded.  After  a 
brief  rest  a  new  party  was  organized,  numbering  a  hundred  and  eighty, 
which  found  a  little  better  route  over  the  desert,  and  came  up  with 
the  Mexican  forces  while  in  fighting  condition.  Texan  histories,  in 
florid,  South-western  rhetoric,  describe  the  daring  charge  and  furious 
onslaught  of  the  little  army,  the  fierce  conflict  and  bloody  victory,  add- 
ing in  confirmation  that  the  Texans  lost  two  men — wounded !  1  heard 
while  in  Texas  that  one  of  the  two  cut  his  fingers  accidentally  with  a 
bowie-knife.  Pity  those  historians  had  not  taken  a  lesson  from  Ccesar's 
Commentaries — that  to  praise  the  enemy's  bravery  is  to  exalt  the  victor. 

Turning  back  from  the  South-eastern  desert  to  the  foot  of  the  mount- 
ains, fertility  increases  with  every  mile,  until  we  are  again  among  the  rich 
pastures  and  mountain  meadows  along  the  heads  of  the  streams.  Thus 
it  will  be  seen  that  Colorado  is  naturally  divisible  into  four  great  sec- 
tions; twenty  thousand  square  miles  of  complete  barrenness,  whether 
of  mountain  or  desert;  fifty  thousand  square  miles  of  plain  and  valley, 


THE  CENTENNIAL  STATE.  489 

fit  only  for  grazing ;  an  unknown  area  rich  in  mines,  and  perhaps  two 
thousand  square  miles  of  agricultural  land.  On  the  grazing  lands 
cattle  and  sheep  are  multiplying  by  hundreds  of  thousands  yearly.  It 
is  estimated  that  Eastern  Colorado  will  aflbrd  abundant  pasturage  for 
two  million  sheep  and  cattle.  Facilities  for  manufacturing  exist  on 
every  mountain  stream,  and  great  attention  is  being  paid  to  the  pro- 
duction of  fine  wools. 

Farther  up  in  the  mountains  the  few  cultivable  plats  require  no  ir- 
rigation. From  a  summer's  residence  at  Georgetown  I  am  convinced 
that  three  times  as  much  rain  falls  there  as  at  Denver.  But  elevation 
is  a  great  hindrance  to  crops.  Wheat  can  be  produced  at  an  altitude 
of  6,000  feet,  oats  at  7,000,  rye  at  7,500,  and  near  Central  City  I  have 
seen  potatoes  yielding  bounteously  at  9,000  feet.  Colorado  flour  has 
attained  a  world-wide  celebrity.  Enthusiastic  prophets  speak  of  re- 
claiming all  the  barren  plains,  but  I  respectfully  submit  that  it  is  im- 
possible, unless  the  climate  changes.  All  the  streams  in  Eastern  Col- 
orado would  not  supply  irrigation  for  a  strip  across  the  Territory  ten 
miles  wide.  The  high  plains  are  irreclaimable  by  any  process  which 
would  be  remunerative,  and  must  continue  for  many  centuries  to  be 
the  herd-grounds  of  the  West. 

What,  then,  are  the  possibilities  of  Colorado?  If  the  pressure  of 
population  is  to  be  no  greater  than  in  the  Ohio  Valley,  I  estimate  it 
as  follows :  200,000  engaged  in  agriculture  and  mining,  and  as  many 
in  stock-ranching,  manufacturing  and  commerce.  But  the  floating, 
or  rather  visiting,  population  will  always  be  large.  Colorado's  beau- 
ties are  of  a  kind  that  art  can  not  mar.  No  amount  of  "improve- 
ment" can  lessen  the  grandeur  of  her  peaks,  the  romance  of  her  se- 
cluded canons,  the  reviving  air  and  inspiring  scenery  of  her  wonder- 
ful parks;  time  will  only  more  fully  demonstrate  the  value  of  her 
mineral  springs,  and  in  her  Western  Wilds  many  successive  genera- 
tions of  sportsmen  will  find  health  and  relaxation. 

In  general  intelligence  Colorado  is  not  surpassed  by  any  com- 
munity in  the  world.  Dullards  and  desperadoes  do  not  build  up  such 
a  commonwealth  as  this.  A  hundred  thousand  people  Avho  have  cre- 
ated in  eighteen  years  a  wealth  of  fifty  millions,  and  now  add  fifteen 
millions  annually  to  the  national  treasure;  who  support  a  score  of 
daily  and  weekly  papers ;  who  organized  civil  government  out  of 
social  chaos,  and  have  grown  to  Statehood  with  so  little  trouble  to 
the  nation,  may  be  trusted  to  govern  themselves  wisely  in  the  future. 
Whether  in  material  or  moral  greatness,  we  may  be  justly  proud  of 
our  Centennial  State. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

THE    MORMON    MURDERERS. 

IN  September,  1874,  I  resumed  my  residence  in  Salt  Lake  City,  and 
there  remained  one  year — part  of  the  time  as  Clerk  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  Utah,  the  remainder  as  assistant  editor  of  the  Daily  Tribune. 
The  sensation  of  that  autumn  was  the  capture  and  imprisonment  of 
John  D.  Lee;  of  the  next  summer,  his  arraignment  and  trial.  In  the 
two  years  after  I  left  him  at  his  stronghold  on  the  Colorado,  he  had 
grown  bolder  and  visited  the  nearest  settlements  without  disguise, 
fully  persuaded  that  all  the  Mormons  were  as  devoted  to  his  safety  as 
they  had  shown  themselves  to  be  fifteen  years  before.  But  he  was 
mistaken.  While  he  enjoyed  the  society  of  some  of  his  younger 
wives  at  Panguitch,  on  the  Sevier  River,  some  one  conveyed  a  hint  to 
the  United  States  Marshal  at  Beaver,  and  a  scheme  was  at  once  con- 
certed for  the  capture  of  the  murderer. 

Marshal  Owens,  with  a  posse  of  five  men,  set  out  from  Beaver  just 
after  dark,  and  by  night  marches,  lying  concealed  in  the  timber  by 
day,  came  upon  Panguitch  just  after  daylight.  But  cautious  as  he  had 
been,  before  he  got  into  town  word  was  conveyed  to  Lee,  and  the  lat- 
ter had  time  to  hide.  Once  in  the  town  the  Marshal  and  posse  found 
a  dense  ignorance  prevailing.  Nobody  knew  whether  John  D.  Lee 
had  a  wife  there,  or  where  she  lived,  or  what  name  she  went  by. 
Enraged  at  this  general  collusion  with  the  criminal,  the  posse  seized  a 
small  boy,  who  afterwards  proved  to  be  Lee's  son,  and  threatened  him 
with  death  unless  he  directed  them  to  the  house.  The  little  Mormon 
gazed  calmly  at  his  captor,  then  at  the  pistol  in  the  latter's  hand,  and 
said,  "  Shoot  away,  d — n  ye  ;  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  it."  Had 
not  all  the  roads  been  guarded,  the  murderer  could  even  then  have 
escaped.  Meanwhile  the  sun  rose  and  the  citizens  went  about  their 
daily  tasks ;  but  it  was  evident  that  a  few  were  all  the  time  within 
easy  reach  of  the  posse,  and  that  a  word  from  the  bishop  or  ruling 
elder  of  the  place  would  have  precipitated  a  bloody  fight.  Fortu- 
nately the  right  house  was  found  before  there  was  time  for  consultation 
among  the  criminals.  The  nest  was  warm,  but  the  bird  had  flown. 
In  the  cow-yard  was  an  old  shed;  the  under  logs  had  been  pulled  out, 

(490) 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS. 


491 


and  the  roof  was  now  only  four  or  five  feet  from  the  ground  and  cov- 
ered with  straw.  It  looked  like  a  shapeless  heap  of  straw,  but  was  a 
hog-pen  and  chicken-coop.  As  long  as  the  posse  searched  the  house 
the  women  were  passive  enough ;  but  when  Marshal  Owens  com- 
menced examining  this  straw  pile,  the  older  one  hastily  grabbed  a 
gun.  That  settled  it. 

"  He's  here,"  said  the  Marshal,  quietly,  and  the  pen  was  surrounded. 


CAPTURK  OF  JOHN  D.  LEE 

The  woman  had  been  disarmed,  but  Lee's  retainers  were  flocking  in 
from  all  sides.  A  cordon  of  Mormons  already  surrounded  the  house 
and  cow-yard.  The  women  seemed  to  be  urging  them  on,  and  a  few 
of  them  came  forward  to  the  pen.  It  was  discovered  that  Lee  had 
thirty  sons,  sons-in-law  and  grandsons  in  Panguitch,  besides  some 
wives  and  more  distant  relations.  The  posse  numbered  but  five. 

Marshal  Owens  gazed  long  and  earnestly  into  the  little  dark  hole, 
the  only  entrance  to  the  pen  ;  and  when  his  eyes  grew  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  he  saw  a  greenish,  glaring  pair  confronting  him  from 
the  black  corner.  Here  was  his  man — but  how  to  get  him?  Deter- 
mined not  to  risk  his  men's  lives,  the  Marshal  directed  them  to  cut 
into  the  straw  pile  at  the  rear,  while  he  would  keep  watch,  and  if  the 
man  made  a  motion,  would  shoot.  At  these  words  the  inside  man 
exclaimed : 

"  Don't  shoot,  boys.     I'll  come  out."     And  he  did. 

Once  secured,  Lee  grew  unnaturally  social  and  even  merry.  He 
urged  the  posse  to  come  into  the  house,  and  ordered  his  wives  to  cook 
breakfast  for  all  parties  immediately.  But  the  Gentiles  did  not  feel  so 


492  WESTERN   WILDS. 

merry.  The  whole  town  appeared  to  be  concentrating  in  that  vicinity. 
It  was  evident  the  place  contained  at  least  seventy-five  fighting  men, 
and  that  they  only  waited  a  signal  from  Lee,  or  some  one  else,  to 
begin.  Directing  his  men  to  keep  their  weapons  in  constant  readi- 
ness, and  placing  two  of  them  as  a  special  guard  over  Lee,  the  Mar- 
shal informed  that  worthy  that  the  first  move  towards  a  rescue  would 
be  the  signal  for  his  instant  death.  The  signal  was  not  given.  The 
posse  ate  breakfast,  silently  and  in  haste,  and  departed  for  the  hills, 
the  whole  population  waiting"  and  watching.  By  forced  marches  the 
Gentiles  reached  Beaver  next  morning,  and  John  D.  Lee  soon  reposed 
in  the  strong  room  at  Camp  Cameron  with  fifty  pounds  of  iron  on  his 
person. 

Before  entering  on  the  details  of  his  trial  it  is  necessary  to  give 
some  particulars  of  the  crime,  a  thousand  times  told,  for  which  he 
finally  suffered.  It  was  the  result  of  three  motives,  prominent  in  the 
order  named:  revenge,  lust  for  plunder  and  fanaticism.  When  the 
Latter-day  Saints  left  Illinois,  20,000  strong,  they  hurled  back  apos- 
tolic curses  at  the  whole  Gentile  nation.  That  nation,  they  said,  had 
rejected  the  gospel  by  the  murder  of  the  Prophet  and  Patriarch,  and 
should  perish  in  its  sins.  In  the  Rocky  Mountains  the  Saints  would 
establish  a  kingdom,  and  in  due  time  take  vengeance  on  their  enemies. 
In  the  endowment  oaths,  every  true  Mormon  was  swrorn  to  avenge  the 
death  of  Joseph  Smith.  A  peculiar  system  of  diplomacy  and  attempt 
to  establish  a  theocracy  in  the  States,  had  brought  the  Saints  into  con- 
flict with  the  Americans,  and  now  that  conflict  was  made  the  means 
of  uniting  them  more  solidly  against  the  Gentile  world.  With  the 
doctrine  of  a  temporal  kingdom  came  in  the  long  train  of  Hebraic 
similes:  the  Church  was  in  bondage  in  Egypt;  it  was  in  the  wilder- 
ness of  Zin;  it  was  to  overthrow  the  Amalekites  (Missourians),  and 
repeat  all  the  wonderful  achievements  in  the  fruitful  annals  of  Israel. 
And  as  the  Amalekites  resisted,  and  many  Mormons  grew  disaffected, 
all  the  bloody  devices  of  the  ancient  Hebrews  were  legalized,  and  thus 
Mormonism  became  the  terrible  thing  it  was  in  1856  and  '57. 

When  they  first  settled  in  Utah  they  determined  their  government 
should  be  a  pure  theocracy,  but  it  was  necessary  to  have  some  form 
which  the  United  States  would  recognize,  to  give  jurisdiction  over 
Gentiles  who  might  pass  through  or  tarry  in  Zion.  A  State  govern- 
ment was  agreed  upon.  Its  boundaries  were  declared  to  be  from 
the  summit  of  the  Sierras  to  that  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from 
latitude  42°  down  to  the  Mohave  Desert  and  divide  of  the  Colorado 
plateau ;  it  contained  all  the  present  Utah  and  Nevada,  with  consider- 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  493 

able  portions  of  Idaho,  Wyoming,  Colorado  and  Arizona.  The  prop- 
osition carried  by  a  unanimous  vote  (all  propositions  do  in  the  Mor- 
mon Church),  and  the  heads  of  the  theocracy  were  in  like  manner 
elected  chiefs  in  the  "  State  of  Deseret : "  Brigham  Young,  Governor ; 
Daniel  H.  Wells,  Chief  Justice  and  Lieutenant-General;  the  Twelve 
Apostles  divided  the  Judgeships  and  State  officers  among  them;  the 
State  Senate  was  made  up  of  Presiding  Bishops,  the  House  of  inferior 
Bishops  and  Elders,  and  the  local  officers  in  counties  were  appointed 
according  to  priestly  rank.  This  queer  institution  ran  a  year.  The 
Legislature  immediately  assembled  and  divided  the  whole  adjacent 
territory  into  grants;  the  timber,  streams,  pasture  lands,  and  valleys 
were  given  to  the  heads  of  the  Church ;  they  in  turn  parceled  them 
out,  each  to  his  laity,  and  thus  color  of  title  was  established  to  all  the 
land  in  Utah  of  any  value.  As  Brigham  pithily  said,  "  If  there's 
nothing  for  the  d — d  Gentiles  to  settle  on,  they  can't  settle."  And 
they  didn't. 

Congress,  in  the  long  and  memorable  session  of  1850,  cut  up  our 
new  possessions  into  various  governments,  and,  among  others,  estab- 
lished the  Territory  of  Utah — about  two  and  a  half  times  as  large  as 
it  is  now ;  of  which  Territory  President  Fillmore,  with  his  customary 
sense  of  propriety,  appointed  Brigham  Young  Governor !  Immedi- 
ately the  whole  State  machinery  of  Deseret  was  floated  on  to  the  new 
government.  As  far  as  the  Organic  Act  of  Utah  gave  power,  all  the 
old  officials  were  chosen  in  the  new  system;  the  Legislature  re-assern- 
bled,  sat  six  months  (its  expenses  were  now  paid  from  Washington), 
confirmed  in  bulk  most  of  the  legislation  of  "Deseret,"  and  divided 
up  all  the  valleys  which  had  since  been  discovered.  Thus  began  that 
remarkable  interlock  of  church  and  state,  the  most  perfect  despotism 
of  modern  times,  which  lasted  unbroken  for  twenty  years — until  Judge 
McKean  and  his  colleagues  made  the  first  breach,  in  1870. 

The  average  citizen  can  have  no  conception  of  the  empire  obtained 
by  this  theocracy  over  the  minds  and  fortunes  of  its  subjects.  Three 
concurrent  governments  took  charge  of  every  detail  of  common  life : 
the  territorial  or  civil  of  all  aifairs  concerning  Gentiles,  or  cases  be- 
tween Gentile  and  Mormon;  the  ecclesiastical  of  all  religious  ques- 
tions; and  the  Church  civil  system  of  all  the  industries  and  commerce 
of  the  people.  Brigham  was  Prophet  and  Seer  in  the  ecclesiastical ; 
First  President  in  the  industrial  and  civil ;  for  seven  years  Governor 
in  the  territorial  government,  and  long  afterwards  virtual  dictator  of 
the  policy  of  his  successors.  The  same  man  in  an  outer  settlement  was 
Judge  under  the  Territory,  Bishop  under  the  Church,  and  "President 


494  WESTERN   WILDS. 

of  the  Stake"  in  the  civil  and  industrial  organization.  John  D.  Lee 
was  Bishop  of  one  settlement,  President  of  a  "stake"  or  commune, 
Major  of  the  county  militia,  Representative  of  the  same  county  in  the 
Legislature,  official  Indian  interpreter,  the  husband  of  eighteen  wives, 
and  father,  from  first  to  last,  of  sixty-four  children.  Isaac  Haight,  his 
colleague  in  murder,  was  likewise  a  Bishop,  a  Captain  in  the  militia, 
member  of  the  council  (upper  house  of  the  Territorial  Legislature), 
husband  of  four  wives,  and  father  of  numerous  children.  Wm.  H. 
Dame  was  Colonel  of  the  regiment  ordered  out  to  commit  the  mas- 
sacre, and  Bishop  of  Parowan,  and  held  numerous  minor  offices.  Higby, 
probably  the  most  blood-thirsty  of  the  lot,  was  an  inferior  Elder,  a 
Captain  in  the  militia,  and  generally  held  some  executive  office  under 
the  Territory.  Bill  Stewart,  who  boasted  for  years  after  the  massacre 
that  he  "  took  the  d — d  Gentile  babies  by  the  heels  and  cracked  their 
skulls  over  the  wagon  tires,"  was  only  a  private  in  the  ranks,  but  for 
years  before  and  after  the  massacre  a  member  of  the  Church  in  good 
standing,  as  were  all  the  other  murderers  down  to  the  very  day  the 
United  States  officers  chased  them  into  the  mountains.  And  yet  there 
are  good  souls  who  maintain  that  the  Mormon  Church  bears  no  moral 
responsibility  for  this  massacre. 

Had  an  inferior  officer  of  our  army,  when  camped  before  Washing- 
ton, gone  into  the  country  and  massacred  the  people  of  a  Virginia 
village  without  regard  to  age  or  sex,  and  had  General  Grant  not  only 
overlooked  the  offense,  but  promoted  the  offender,  the  world  would 
have  resounded  with  denunciations.  Yet  the  control  General  Grant 
had  over  his  army  was  laxity  itself  compared  with  that  Brigham 
Young  had  over  Mormondom.  To  say  that  these  men,  of  their  own 
motion,  and  without  a  hint  from  head-quarters,  did  such  a  deed,  is  to 
say  what  every  old  resident  of  Utah  knows  to  be  a  transparent  false- 
hood. For  fifteen  years  these  men  had  never  once  followed  their  own 
minds  in  any  matter  of  importance.  One  must  take  "  counsel  of  the 
priesthood"  on  all  occasions,  whether  he  would  go  abroad  or  remain 
at  home,  open  a  farm,  or  go  into  trade,  buy  a  cow  or  take  an  extra 
wife.  There  was  no  corner  of  the  mountains  so  remote  but  some 
theocratic  arm  reached  it.  There  were  no  walls  high  enough  or  thick 
enough  to  shut  out  church  spies;  there  was  no  domestic  confidence 
that  was  safe,  for  the  ward  teachers  were  expressly  instructed  to  visit 
weekly  every  family  in  their  jurisdiction,  and  "examine  the  man  apart 
from  his  wife  and  the  wife  apart  from  the  man,  to  the  end  that  heresy 
may  be  rooted  out."  To  say  that  this  was  the  first  crime  of  these  men 
is  to  say  what  every  lawyer  knows  to  be  folly.  Criminals  arc  not 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  495 

made  in  a  day.  Men  do  not  become  utter  and  conscienceless  villains 
just  for  one  occasion.  Whole  communities  do  not  suddenly  turn  to 
assassins.  Starkie  and  Greenleaf  teach  a  sounder  philosophy  of  crime. 
The  whole  previous  life-time  of  the  Mormon  Church  was  no  more  than 
enough  to  educate  men  to  such  action. 

Perhaps  all  these  causes  would  not  have  been  sufficient,  but  the  year 
1856  was  full  of  disaster  and  incitements  to  fanaticism.  The  Church 
leaders  had  determined  that  immigrants  from  Europe  should  walk 
from  the  Missouri  to  Salt  Lake  City,  and  trundle  hand-carts  loaded 
with  their  baggage ;  and  the  first  attempt  resulted  in  frightful  suffering 
and  three  hundred  deaths.  This  dire  calamity  appeared  to  excite  an 
epidemic  madness  in  Utah. 

The  "Reformation"  which  had  already  set  in,  now  became  a  verita- 
ble reign  of  terror.  The  doctrine  of  "  blood  atonement,"  or  killing 
men  to  save  their  souls,  was  taught  by  Brigham  Young,  Orson  Hyde, 
and  others.  In  all  the  sermons  of  that  period  one  will  not  find 
twenty  quotations  from  the  New  Testament,  but  every  page  is  red 
with  the  bloody  maxims  of  the  Mosaic  code. 

Meanwhile,  Parley  P.  Pratt,  "Isaiah  of  the  Latter-day  Church," 
was  killed  in  Arkansas  by  Hector  McLean,  whose  wife  Pratt  had 
taken  away  some  time  before.  To  the  Gentiles  this  Avoukl  seem  but 
the  rash  act  of  an  outraged  husband ;  to  the  Mormons  it  appeared  the 
murder  of  an  able  apostle,  who  had  obeyed  the  "celestial  laws/'  iu 
taking  another  man's  wife.  The  spring  of  1857  found  the  Mormon 
community  in  a  mixed  state  of  fanatic  enthusiasm,  grief  for  the  lost, 
zeal  for  the  cause,  and  fierce  anger  against  the  whole  American  race. 
While  in  this  state  the  news  arrived  that  President  Buchanan  had  re- 
moved Brigham  Young  from  the  Governorship,  and  determined  to 
station  a  part  of  the  army  in  Utah.  The  immediate  consequences 
were  frightful. 

A  yell  of  rage  and  defiance  sounded  from  one  end  of  the  Territory 
to  the  other.  The  few  American  officials  who  remained  slipped  out  at 
once.  Dr.  Hurt,  Indian  agent,  did  not  trust  the  roads,  but  was 
piloted  through  the  mountains  by  the  Utes.  All  the  apostates  who 
could  do  so  fled  at  once.  The  rest  held  their  peace,  or  outdid  the 
orthodox  in  their  zeal.  Several  frightful  murders  and  still  more 
frightful  mutilations  took  place.  To  deprive  a  dangerous  man  of 
virility  was  regarded  almost  as  a  joke.  Dozens  of  cases  are  known  to 
have  occurred  between  1856  and  1863 — those  being  the  years  in 
which  the  "blood  atonement"  doctrine  was  preached.  All  opposition 
silenced,  and  the  people  were  hot  for  war.  Wheat  was  dried  and 


496  WESTERN  WILDS. 

cached  in  the  mountains  preparatory  to  a  guerrilla  war;  and  every 
able-bodied  male  was  under  arms.  Brigham  issued  a  proclamation 
warning  all  emigrants  out  of  the  Territory,  and  announced  in  a  ser- 
mon that  if  they  came,  he  "would  turn  the  Indians  loose  on  them." 
"While  things  were  in  this  state,  the  doomed  train  arrived  in  Salt  Lake 
City. 

It  was,  perhaps,  the  richest  train  that  ever  crossed  the  plains. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  or  more  wealthy  old  gentlemen  from  Mis- 
souri and  Arkansas,  with  their  sons,  sons-in-law  and  their  several 
families,  including  a  large  number  of  young  ladies;  also  a  few  young 
men  from  Vermont,  a  German  doctor  and  man  of  science,  two  lads  from 
some  Eastern  city,  and  a  son  of  Dr.  Aden,  of  Kentucky.  All  the 
Missouri  and  Arkansas  people  were  related  by  blood,  and  when  they 
were  killed  a  whole  clan,  so  to  speak,  was  cut  off.  The.  recovered 
children,  in  many  instances,  could  find  no  relations.  There  were  forty 
wagons,  several  hundred  horses  and  cattle,  a  piano,  some  elegant  car- 
riages, several  riding  horses  for  the  young  ladies,  and  an  immense 
amount  of  jewelry,  clothing,  and  minor  articles.  The  value  of 
the  booty  taken  has  been  estimated  all  the  way  from  $150,000  to 
$300,000. 

Seeing  that  they  were  in  a  hostile  country  they  hastened  on ;  but  as 
they  advanced  southward  from  Salt  Lake  (they  were  going  to  Los 
Angeles),  they  found  the  people  steadily  more  hostile.  They  were 
denied  passage  through  some  of  the  towns,  and  had  to  make  a  detour 
on  the  desert;  they  could  purchase  no  provisions,  and  found  that  in 
spite  of  themselves  they  were  constantly  violating  municipal  ordi- 
nances, and  liable  to  arrest.  At  Beaver  they  were  joined  by  a  Mis- 
sourian  who  had  been  in  custody  among  the  Mormons;  he  urged  them 
to  hurry  on  as  they  valued  their  lives.  Passing  through  Cedar  City  it 
is  believed  they  saw  signs  of  their  coming  danger  and  redoubled  their 
exertions  to  get  beyond  the  Utah  limits.  At  last  they  reached  the 
glen  known  as  Mountain  Meadows,  on  the  "divide"  between  the 
waters  flowing  into  the  Great  Basin  and  those  draining  into  the  Colo- 
rado, and  paused  to  recruit  their  stock  before  entering  on  the  Kiinety- 
Mile  Desert. 

Meanwhile  some  secret  work,  not  yet  fully  explained,  had  been 
going  on  at  Salt  Lake  City.  There  is  some  evidence  that  a  plan  was 
once  agreed  upon  to  have  the  emigrants  killed  as  they  crossed  the 
Provo  "bench,"  only  forty  miles  from  Salt  Lake;  but  it  was  finally 
thought  best  to  let  them  get  beyond  the  settlements.  George  A.  Smith, 
Brigham's  First  Councillor,  went  south  ahead  of  the  party,  forbidding 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  497 

the  people  to  sell  them  any  grain;  and  some  lawyers,  who  have  exam- 
ined the  evidence,  think  he  planned  the  massacre,  as  he  then  held  mili- 
tary command  of  all  the  Territory  south  of  Provo.  Down  to  this 
point  all  agree  upon  the  facts;  what  follows  rests  upon  testimony  from 
many  sources : 

Philip  Klingensmith,  Mormon  Bishop  and  participant  in  the  crime, 
who, fled  to  Nevada,  made  a  full  confession,  and  was  the  main  witness 
on  the  trial ;  Joel  White,  a  private  in  the  militia,  also  present  at  the 
massacre,  unwillingly,  as  he  claims;  one  Hawley,  a  lad,  also  present; 
several  boys  who  assisted  in  burying  the  dead;  Robert  Keyes,  who 
saw  the  dead  soon  after,  and  was  familiar  with  the  local  accounts; 
Asahel  Ben  net,  who  visited  the  scene  and  saw  the  dead;  the  confes- 
sion of  Spencer,  a  school  teacher  in  St.  George,  who"  died  of  grief  and 
remorse  for  his  share  in  the  act;  Albert,  an  Indian  boy,  who  was 
herding  sheep  for  Jacob  Hamlin,  in  the  upper  end  of  the  Meadows; 
several  Indian  chiefs  who  assisted  at  the  massacre;  Mrs.  Ann  Eliza 
Hoge,  a  French  Mormon  woman,  "plural  wife"  of  one  of  the  leaders, 
who  was  present  at  the  "councils"  where  the  death  of  the  emigrants 
was  determined  upon ;  the  various  confessions  of  John  D.  Lee,  and  a 
mass  of  collateral  testimony.  The  evidence  is  conclusive  as  to  the  fol- 
lowing facts : 

The  day  after  the  emigrants  passed  Harmony,  John  D.  Lee,  Bishop 
and  President,  called  a  council  and  stated  that  he  had  received  com- 
mand "to  follow  and  attack  the  accursed  Gentiles,  and  let  the  arrows 
of  the  Almighty  drink  their  blood."  He  stated  that  they  were  from 
Missouri,  which  had  expelled  God's  people,  and  from  Arkansas,  which 
had  sanctioned  the  murder  of  the  apostle;  he  recited  the  Hawn's  Mill 
massacre  of  Mormons,  the  murder  of  Joseph  and  Hyrum  Smith,  and 
others,  and  called  for  an  affirmative  vote.  All  hands  were  held  up, 
and  the  expedition  was  at  once  fitted  out.  Lee  turned  out  the  Indians 
under  his  charge,  who  surrounded  the  emigrants  and  prevented  their 
going  on,  while  a  regular  call  was  made  on  the  county  militia  by 
Col.  W.  H.  Dame,  Major  John  D.  Lee,  and  Captains  Haight  and 
Higby.  The  siege  lasted  eight  days,  during  which  a  few  emigrants 
were  killed. 

Some  men  living  in  the  vicinity  testify  that  they  were  ordered  out 
as  militia;  others  that  they  went  at  command  of  the  Bishop,  and  still 
others  that  they  were  asked  to  go  but  managed  to  avoid  it.  Two  men 
say  that  they  sat  inside  the  wall  of  a  garden  all  night,  talking  and 
praying  while  the  wagons  carrying  supplies  ran  back  and  forward; 
that  they  wept  and  asked  the  forgiveness  of  God  if  they  were  about 
32 


498 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


to  do  wrong,  but  finally  had  to  go  along  with  their  company  of  mi- 
litia. When  all  were  collected  at  the  Meadows,  on  the  eighth  day  o£ 
the  siege,  Lee  and  some  others  bore  a  flag  of  truce  to  the  emigrants, 
and  arranged  for  their  surrender.  They  were  to  give  up  every  thing, 
including  their  arms,  be  taken  back  to  the  settlement  and  taken  care 
of,  but  held  till  the  war  was  over.  On  this  agreement  they  started 
on  their  return.  There  were  sixty  fighting  men,  forty  women,  and 
forty- eight  children.  In  front  were  two  wagons,  driven  by  Mormons 
and  containing  the  men  wounded  in  the  siege ;  behind  them  were  the 
women  and  children,  and  lastly  the  men.  Beside  the  men  inarched 


MOUNTAIN  MEADOW  MASSACRE. 

the  Mormon  militia  in  single  file.  Off  on  either  side  were  mounted 
men  to  intercept  any  who  might  break  through  the  lines.  A  hollow 
crosses  the  road  there;  on  each  side  of  the  way  as  it  enters  the  hollow 
are  rocks  and  bushes  where  the  Indians  lay  in  ambush.  As  testified 
to  by  one  witness,  the  women  talked  joyfully  of  their  rescue  from 
the  Indians,  and  thanked  God  that  they  were  under  the  protection  of 
white  men. 

All  was  in  readiness.  As  the  wagons  passed  the  gully  and  the 
women  and  children  were  just  entering  it,  Ike  Higbee,  standing  on  the 
bluff  above,  waved  his  hand  as  a  signal.  Haight  gave  command: 
Halt!  fire!!  On  the  instant  the  Mormon  militia  turned,  and  with 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  499 

their  guns  almost  touching  their  victims,  discharged  one  volley,  and 
almost  every  man  of  the  emigrants  fell  dead.  With  loud  screams  the 
women  and  children  turned  and  ran  back  toward  the  men.  The  In- 
dians and  Mormons  rushed  upon  them,  shooting,  stabbing,  braining, 
and  in  twenty  minutes  six  score  of  Americans  lay  dead  upon  the 
ground,  the  hapless  victims  of  Mormonism.  No  circumstance  of  hor- 
ror was  lacking.  Indians  and  Mormons  bit  and  tore  the  rings  from 
the  fingers  and  ears  of  the  women,  and  with  insulting  yells  trampled 
on  the  faces  of  the  dying. 

One  girl  knelt  and  begged  a  son  of  John  D.  Lee  for  life.  He  hesi- 
tated, but  the  father  pushed  him  aside,  and  shot  her  through  the 
head.  Several  broke  through  the  line,  but  were  killed  by  the 
mounted  men.  Two  girls  ran  down  the  gully  and  over  the  ridge,  to 
the  slope  where  the  Indian  boy  Albert  was  hid,  to  watch  the  mas- 
sacre. He  says  that  they  begged  him  to  save  them,  and  he  directed 
them  where  to  hide  in  a  thicket.  The  next  minute  John  D.  Lee  and 
Bill  Stewart  came  galloping  across  the  hollow,  and,  with  savage 
curses,  ordered  him  to  point  out  the  runaways.  He  dared  not  diso- 
bey, and  soon  the  girls  were  dragged  out.  Kneeling  to  Lee,  they 
poured  out  the  most  passionate  prayers  for  mercy — they  would  be  his 
slaves,  would  never  betray  him,  would  work  for  him  forever.  While 
one  clung  to  his  knees  he  jerked  her  suddenly  upon  her  back,  and, 
placing  his  knee  upon  her  breast,  cut  her  throat  from  ear  to  ear !  The 
other  had,  meanwhile,  run  away.  He  overtook  her,  and,  by  a  savage 
blow  on  the  back  of  the  head  with  a  ragged  stone,  crushed  in  her 
skull.  Both  these  bodies  were  missed  by  the  burying  party,  and, 
strange  to  say,  lay  there  ten  days  untouched' by  the  wolves.  When 
Hamlin  returned  from  Salt  Lake  City,  Albert  pointed  them  out,  and 
they  were  buried.  Hamlin  adds  that  there  was  not  the  mark  of  a 
tooth  on  either  body,  and  no  sign  of  decay,  so  pure  was  the  air. 
Their  fair  countenances  were  like  those  of  persons  just  dead,  and  their 
handsome  forms  untouched  by  the  beasts  and  birds  of  prey.  Nature 
and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  mountain  were  kinder  to  them  than  men 
of  their  own  race  and  color. 

Mrs.  Hamlin,  wife  of  Jacob  Hamlin  above  mentioned,  before  her 
death  gave  this  account : 

"  A  Mormon  woman,  far  advanced  in  pregnancy,  was  at  Hamlin's ; 
her  husband  was  driving  one  of  the  wagons  containing  the  wounded, 
having  been  ordered  on  that  duty  by  Bishop  Klingensmilh.  When 
the  massacre  began  this  man  took  a  fit,  and  soon  died  of  excitement 
or  fright.  When  the  bloody  wagon,  containing  the  children  and  the 


500  WESTERN  WILDS. 

dead  body  of  her  husband,  was  brought  to  Hamlin's,  this  woman  went 
into  a  spasm,  prematurely  gave  birth  to  a  child,  then  became  insane, 
and  lingered  twelve  years  a  raving  maniac."  The  driver  of  the  other 
wagon  says  that  besides  children  and  wounded  men  he  had  in  his 
wagon  a  venerable  old  man,  with  long  white  beard,  richly  dressed,  and 
evidently  a  man  of  consequence  among  the  emigrants.  He  insists  that 
this  old  man  j  umped  out  of  the  front  end  of  the  wagon,  got  into  the 
bushes,  and  was  never  captured.  None  of  the  burying  party  could 
ever  find  his  body.  Possibly  the  poor  old  man  wandered  awhile  in 
the  mountains,  afraid  to  approach  any  settlement,  and  either  died  of 
want  in  some  lonely  place  or  was  killed  by  the  Indians. 

One  witness — a  lad  at  the  time,  and  present  with  the  militia — says 
that  when  they  came  to  look  over  the  ground  he  found  one  woman 
only  stunned  and  recovering  consciousness.  Bill  Stewart  ordered  him 
to  kill  her  at  once. 

"Never!"  was  his  reply.  "I've  got  none  of  this  blood  on  my 
soul,  and  don't  intend  to  have  any." 

Stewart  cursed  him  for  a  coward,  then  stepped  behind  the  woman 
who  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  drove  a  bowie-knife  to  the  hilt  in  her 
side. 

Three  men  escaped  the  general  massacre.  The  night  before  the 
closing  scene  the  party  first  became  convinced  that  white  men  were 
besieging  them.  They  then  drew  up  a  paper  addressed  to  the  Masons, 
Odd  Fellows,  Baptists,  and  Methodists  of  the  States,  "  and  to  all  good 
people  every-where,"  in  which  they  stated  their  condition,  and  im- 
plored help  if  there  was  time;  if  not,  justice.  To  this  were  attached 
the  signatures  of  so  many  members  of  various  lodges  and  churches  in 
Missouri  and  Arkansas.  With  this  paper  three  of  their  best  scouts 
crept  down  a  ravine  and  escaped,  starting  afoot  for  California.  The 
next  day  Ira  Hatch  and  a  band  of  Indians  were  put  upon  their  track. 
They  came  upon  them  asleep  on  the  Santa  Clara  Mountain,  and  killed 
two  as  they  slept.  The  third  escaped,  shot  through  the  wrist.  He 
traveled  on  and  was  relieved  by  the  Vegas  Indians,  on  the  Santa 
Clara.  After  a  day's  rest  he  started  on,  but  meeting  John  M.  Young 
and  another,  they  told  him  it  would  be  madness  to  attempt  the  Ninety- 
Mile  Desert  in  his  condition,  and  promised  to  try  and  smuggle  him 
through  to  Salt  Lake  City.  A  few  hours  after,  they  met  Hatch  and 
his  Indians  on  the  hunt  for  the  fugitive.  Said  Hatch,  "  Boys,  you  can 
pass,  we've  nothing  against  you,  but  this  man  must  die."  The  doomed 
man  thanked  the  boys  for  their  trouble,  offered  a  moving  prayer,  and 
submitted  to  his  fate.  Unwilling  to  look  on  his  death,  Young  galloped 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  501 

away.  A  few  rods  off  some  impulse  caused  him  to  halt  and  turn 
around.  The  Indians  had  shot  the  fugitive  full  of  arrows;  he  was 
still  upon  his  knees,  and  an  Indian  just  drawing  a  knife  across  his 
throat.  This  brings  the  whole  number  murdered  up  to  a  hundred  and 
thirty-one.  The  paper  dropped  by  the  fugitives  was  given  by  an  In- 
dian to  Jacob  Hamlin,  Church  Indian  Agent,  who  kept  it  many 
years ;  but  one  day  showing  it  to  Lee,  the  latter  took  it  from  him  and 
destroyed  it. 

The  bloody  deed  was  done — the  most  cruel,  pitiless,  massacre  white 
men  were  ever  guilty  of.  It  only  remained  to  divide  the  spoil  and 
guard  against  discovery.  A  tithe  of  the  plunder  was  turned  over  to 
the  Church.  The  Indians  received  the  arms  and  ammunition  and 
some  of  the  clothing;  but  long  complained  that  they  did  not  get  their 
share.  The  finest  stock  was  distributed  among  the  dignitaries  in  the 
neighborhood;  and  in  1872,  Bishop  Windsor,  of  Pipe  Springs,  Ari- 
zona, pointed  out  to  me  cattle  in  his  own  herd  descended  from  stock 
taken  at  Mountain  Meadows.  Forty  head  of  cattle  were  driven  to 
Salt  Lake  City,  and  traded  for  boots  and  shoes  to  Hon.  William  H. 
Hooper.  Thirteen  years  afterward  this  man  stood  up  in  his  place  in 
the  American  Congress,  and  solemnly  called  God  to  witness  that  the 
Mormons  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  massacre — it  was  all  the  work 
of  the  Indians.  The  clothing,  even  that  stripped  from  the  corpses,  was 
put  in  the  cellar  of  the  tithing  house  at  Cedar  City,  and  "  sold  to  pay 
expenses."  The  carriages,  wagons,  and  jewelry  were  divided  among 
the  leaders.  And  then,  Major  John  D.  Lee,  as  military  commandant, 
and  Philip  Klingensmith,  as  bishop,  went  to  Salt  Lake  City  and  laid 
a  full  report  before  Brigham  Young — "  Governor  of  Utah  and  ex~ 
officio  Superintendent  of  Indian  Affairs,"  by  the  grace  of  His  Excel- 
lency Franklin  Pierce. 

And  what  then?  Of  course  there  was  a  loud  outcry  for  justice;  of 
course  there  was  a  legislative  committee  of  inquiry;  of  course  the 
Governor  of  Utah  promptly  moved  upon  the  criminals,  and  the  ex- 
officio  Superintendent  of  Indian  Affairs  reported  it  to  the  department. 
Nothing  of  the  kind.  Brigham  sent  word  to  the  Bishops,  "  Let  no 
man  talk  about  this  thing — don't  mention  it  even  among  yourselves — 
especially  let  the  women  keep  silent  about  it.  Let  it  be  forgotten  as 
soon  as  possible."  Haight  and  Lee  came  up  to  Salt  Lake  as  senator 
and  representative;  sat  that  winter  in  the  legislature;  attended  the 
usual  dinner  given  by  Gov.  Brigham  Young,  and  each  went  home 
with  a  young  wife,  sealed  to  them  in  the  Endowment  House  by  the 
Prophet,  Seer,  and  Revelator,  Brigham  Young!  Nobody  left  the 


502  WESTERN    WILDS. 

neighborhood;  nobody  lost  caste.  Lee  remained  a  bishop  for  fourteen 
years  afterward.  Dame  is  a  bishop  yet;  Higbee  is  a  prominent  citizen, 
and  Haight  was  still  a  bishop  when  I  last  saw  him  in  1872.  The 
dead  were  buried;  peace  was  made  by  -Commissioners  Powell  and 
McCulloch  with  King  Brigham;  a  new  emigrant  road  was  laid  off, 
lest  Gentiles  might  discover  something  in  passing  through  the  mead- 
ows, and  no  mention  of  the  affair  was  made  in  Mormon  society  or  in 
the  Mormon  organ,  the  Deseret  News. 

And  so  all  was  done,  and  the  dread  secret  was  safe.  The  last  adult 
emigrant  had  fed  the  wolves ;  the  only  child  old  enough  to  remember 
any  thing  about  it  had  "  disappeared,"  and  the  rest,  distributed  in 
various  settlements,  soon  looked  upon  the  Mormons  as  their  people, 
and  forgot  that  they  ever  had  Gentile  parents.  Even  the  women, 
obeying  Brigham  implicitly,  "quit  talking  about  it."  Lee  called  a 
meeting  of  all  who  were  at  the  former  council,  and  swore  them  to 
eternal  secrecy,  under  penalty  of  the  punishment  invoked  in  their 
endowment  oaths.  Brigham  preached  in  the  neighborhood,  was  the 
guest  of  Lee,  and  urged  the  brethren  "to  be  united  and  not  tale-bear- 
ers, one  against  another."  All  avenues  of  discovery  were  apparently 
shut  up.  The  job  was  a  complete  one.  The  secret  was  safe. 

"Ah  gentlemen!"  said  Webster,  of  a  similar  case;  "that  was  a 
terrible  mistake.  Such  a  secret  is  safe  nowhere.  The  universe  of 
God  has  no  corner  where  the  guilty  can  bestow  it  and  say  it  is  safe. 
The  human  heart  was  not  made  to  be  the  depository  of  such  a  secret. 
There  is  no  refuge  from  confession  but  suicide  ;  and  suicide  is  con- 
fession." Even  the  banded  murderers  of  Mormondom  could  not 
keep  it.  There  were  too  many  concerned.  There  were  men  with 
human  blood  in  their  hearts;  there  were  women  writh  mothers'  milk 
in  their  breasts.  They  could  not  carry  so  oppressive  a  secret.  The 
madness  of  1856  and  '57  wore  itself  out.  Dazed  and  bewildered,  men 
slowly  emerged  from  the  state  of  excitement,  and  asked  themselves 
what  had  been  done.  Strange  rumors  spread  northward  from  settle- 
ment to  settlement.  Some  of  the  boys  from  Washington  County  came 
north  after  the  peace,  and  met  their  friends  who  had  served  against 
Johnston's  army  ;  and  often  muttered  over  their  cups  that  they  did 
not  like  "  the  business  they  had  been  engaged  in  down  south."  A 
lad  in  Beaver  began  to  act  very  strangely — he  drank  deep  of  native 
whisky,  and  never  staggered  under  it;  but  told  of  very  strange  things 
that  he  saw. 

Young  Spencer  wasted  to  a  skeleton,  and  wrote  imploring  letters 
to  his  bishop  and  to  Brigham  Young,  begging  for  some  word  to  re- 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  503 

lieve  his  remorse.  All  at  once  several  young  Mormons  ran  away 
from  that  section,  and  the  next  spring  an  account  of  the  massacre 
appeared  in  a  California  paper.  But  the  young  Mormon  who  brought 
it  never  showed  himself  again,  and  the  editor  was  laughed  at.  Pretty 
soon,  however,  it  was  found  that  a  company  of  emigrants  certainly 
was  lost ;  and  then  Brigham  Young  spoke  out. 

The  Deseret  News  officially  pronounced  it  a  lie.  Privately  the 
leaders  said :  "  It  was  a  necessity — we  only  regret  that  they  had  to 
kill  the  women."  Still  new  facts  kept  coming  out,  and  in  1859  Judge 
Cradlebaugh,  with  a  military  escort,  visited  the  section,  collected  the 
available  evidence,  and  published  it.  Since  then  the  Mormons  have 
fallen  back  point  by  point.  First  they  insisted  no  such  thing  oc- 
curred; then,  for  "a  few  years,  that  it  was  the  work  of  Indians  alone. 
About  1865  they  began  hesitatingly  to  admit  that  "  a  few  reprobate 
whites  were  engaged — men  of  no  standing  in  the  community."  In 
1869  the  writer  hereof  collected  and  published  a  mass  of  newly  dis- 
covered evidence  on  the  subject;  in  1870  the  Federal  officials  made  a 
little  inquiry.  In  1871  the  Mormons  nominally  cut  off  John  D.  Lee 
from  fellowship,  and  sent  him  on  a  mission  down  to  the  Colorado. 
There  I  visited  him  in  July,  1872 ;  spent  three  days  at  his  house,  and 
heard  his  version  of  the  massacre. 

Meanwhile  public  sentiment  among  the  Mormons  was  growing 
better.  Old  Mormons  died;  young  ones  grew  up  infidels;  Gentile 
notions  took  root,  and  it  began  to  be  whispered  that  murder  was  a 
crime  even  when  done  by  a  priest.  In  1874  Congress  passed  a  law 
which  took  the  organization  of  juries  out  of  the  hands  of  Brigham 
Young,  and  all  at  once  there  was  abundant  evidence  forthcoming. 
Then  followed  the  indictment,  the  capture  of  Lee,  and  flight  of  the 
others  accused,  except  Bishop  Dame,  who  was  arrested  soon  after  Lee. 
The  law's  delay  and  the  awkwardness  attendant  on  getting  a  new  jury 
system  into  operation  prevented  Lee's  being  tried  till  midsummer, 
1875.  Then  the  Mormon  town  of  Beaver  became  the  scene  of  a 
strange  drama.  Correspondents  from  the  East  and  West  flocked 
thither,  and  for  the  first  time  a  little  of  the  inner  life  of  Mormondom 
was  brought  to  light  in  open  court,  and  reported  to  all  the  world. 
The  most  incredulous  were  compelled  to  acknowledge  Mormon  guilt, 
and  there  began  the  series  of  trials  which  will  eventually  make  the 
world  acquainted  with  Brigham  Young  as  he  is. 

It  required  the  most  persevering  exertions  to  get  the  witnesses  to- 
gether. When  Lee  was  "cut  off"  from  the  Church,  in  1871,  al7  the 
Mormons  in  one  day,  as  it  were,  changed  their  tone  and  began  to 


504  WESTERN   WILDS. 

denounce  him  as  the  bloodiest  villain  of  the  age.  In  fact  they  were 
extremely  anxious  to  have  him  punished — they  even  wanted  him 
strung  up  at  once.  As  the  day  of  trial  drew  near,  you  might  have 
read  in  all  the  Mormon  prints  savage  denunciations  of  his  crime,  and 
pitiful  plaints  "  that  innocent  and  noble  men  should  have  been  accused 
of  complicity  with  it."  When  it  was  announced  that  Lee  was  about 
to  turn  State's  evidence,  the  Mormon  prints  indulged  in  joyful  con- 
gratulations that  his  statement  would  "  completely  exonerate  President 
Young  and  the  Heads  of  the  Church."  All  this  looked  very  strange, 
to  say  the  least.  And,  sure  enough,  when  Lee's  statement  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  District  Attorney  it  was  easily  proved  to  be  a  tissue  of 
lies  from  beginning  to  end,  as  shown  by  abundant  testimony.  All 
the  guilty,  he  said,  were  either  dead  or  out  of  the  Territory  long  ago. 
Not  a  line  did  it  contain  about  any  one  of  those  in  custody.  It  is 
now  believed  to  have  been  a  Church  trick  from  the  start.  The  only 
guilty  man,  according  to  Lee,  was  Klingensmith,  the  principal  wit- 
ness against  him. 

This  confession  was  afterwards  repudiated  by  Lee  himself;  and,  of 
the  four  he  made,  the  last  one  alone  contained  the  truth.  The  trial 
was  set  for  July  12,  1875,  in  the  District  Court  of  the  Second  District 
of  Utah,  presided  over  by  Hon.  Jacob  S.  Boreman.  This  gentleman 
deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice.  A  brother  of  Senator  Boreman, 
of  West  Virginia,  but  long  a  resident  of  Western  Missouri,  he  unites 
the  genial  qualities  of  the  typical  Western  man  with  the  earnestness 
of  a  thorough  lawyer ;  and  is,  withal,  a  devout  Christian,  and  a  man  of 
irreproachable  morals.  When  he  went  to  Beaver,  it  was  the  center  of 
the  most  unpromising  section  of  Mormondom ;  but  undeterred  by 
the  spirit  of  disloyalty  and  hatred  to  Gentile  laws  and  institutions 
which  animated  that  community,  he  has  held  steadily  on  his  course. 
As  an  official,  he  has  maintained  the  dignity  of  the  judiciary;  as  a 
Christian,  he  has  fostered  the  Church  and  Sabbath-school ;  as  a  citizen, 
he  has  been  of  immense  advantage  to  the  place.  Even  his  enemies 
have  learned  to  respect  him;  and,  as  the  American  population  grows 
in  numbers,  he  enjoys  the  warm  friendship  of  all  who  make  his  ac- 
quaintance. 

Hon.  William  C.  Carey,  United  States  District  Attorney,  assisted 
by  R.  N.  Baskin,  Esq.,  of  Salt  Lake  City,  and  Judge  Wheedon,  of 
Beaver,  conducted  the  prosecution.  The  prisoner's  counsel  were 
Messrs.  J.  G.  Sutherland,  G.  C.  Bates,  Judge  Hoge  (a  Mormon), 
We^ls  Spicer,  and  W.  W.  Bishop,  the  last  named  of  Pioche.  It 
was  evident  from  the  start  that  there  were  grave  differences  be- 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  505 

tween  the  attorneys  for  the  defense.  Messrs.  Spicer  and  Bishop  were 
earnestly  laboring  for  the  acquittal  of  their  client ;  to  them  the  Mor- 
mon Church  was  a  secondary  affair,  and  they  would  willingly  have 
cleared  Lee  by  proving  that  he  had  orders  from  his  military  and  eccle- 
siastical superiors.  Messrs.  Sutherland  and  Bates,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  really  the  attorneys  of  the  Church,  employed  and  paid  by  Brig- 
hum  Young.  Tiiat  interest  was  totally  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  Lee, 
if  only  the  inquiry  could  be  made  to  stop  with  him,  and  the  heads  of 
the  Church  suffer  no  stain.  This  want  of  harmony  produced  curious 
and  ludicrous  results  through  the  entire  trial.  The  first  difficulty  was 
in  selecting  a  jury.  The  two  hundred  names  from  which  it  was  to 
be  drawn,  under  the  terms  of  the  Poland  Bill,  were  half  of  Mormons 
and  half  of  Gentiles.  Then  was  shown  the  difficulty  attendant  on  all 
judicial  proceedings  with  men  who  held  their  duty  to  a  church  to 
absolve  them  from  allegiance  to  the  state.  The  Saints  swore  without 
hesitation  that  they  had  formed  no  opinion  ;  many  of  the  Gentiles 
admitted  they  had;  so  the  jury,  as  finally  settled  upon,  consisted  of 
nine  Mormons,  three  Gentiles,  and  one  "Jack-Mormon."  Consider 
the  following  cases  of  jurors  sworn  upon  their  voir  dire,  and  picture 
to  yourself  a  scene  which  certainly  could  have  occurred  in  no  other 
part  of  the  world  than  Utah  : 

Joseph  Knight,  sworn  on  his  voir  dire — Was  a  native ;  lived  three 
years  in  same  town  with  Lee,  but  never  heard  much  about  him ;  had 
formed  no  opinion.  Accepted. 

George  F.  Jarvis  sworn — Had  lived  in  St.  George  (where  most  of 
the  perpetrators  now  live)  fourteen  years ;  had  heard  little  or  no  talk 
of  the  "affair;"  had  formed  no  opinion.  Accepted.  This  Jarvis 
looked  like  a  thorough  "  Danite." 

Robert  Heyborne  sworn — Had  lived  eighteen  years  in  Cedar  City, 
a  neighbor  to  Lee ;  had  heard  nothing  more  than  rumor  ( ! ! )  about 
such  an  occurrence ;  had  no  opinion !  Challenged  by  prosecution. 

Christopher  J.  Arthur  (a  son-in-law  of  Isaac  C.  Haight,  one  of  the 
accused)  sworn — Lived  in  Cedar  City  at  the  time  of  the  "reported 
difficulty ; "  was  a  member  of  the  militia,  but  was  entirely  ignorant  of 
any  facts ;  might  have  heard  something  about  it ;  did  not  remember ; 
formed  no  opinion.  Challenged  by  prosecution. 

John  C.  Duncan  sworn — Had  lived  twenty -two  years  in  Utah,  but 
heard  nothing  about  the  massacre!  Had  visited  Mountain  Meadows 
and  saw  the  grave  and  a  monument,  but  never  asked  what  it  was  for ! 
Never  heard  any  body  say  any  thing  about  any  massacre,  and  had 
no  opinion.  Accepted  as  a  "model  juror."  And  so  on 


506  WESTERN  WILDS. 

through  the  list.     What  a  world  of  trouble  Brooklyn  courts  might 
have  saved,  if  they  had  allowed  Plymouth  Church  to  select  jurors. 

This  sort  of  thing  occupied  several  days.  Meanwhile  the  deputy 
marshals  were  scouring  the  country  in  search  of  witnesses,  every  sort 
of  obstruction  being  thrown  in  their  way  by  the  people.  The  secret- 
iveness  and  cunning  of  the  Mormon  laity  renders  proof  of  daring 
crime  a  work  of  extreme  difficulty.  "  Keep  still  and  mind  your  own 
business,"  is  the  standing  exhortation  to  the  men.  "  If  you  see  a  dog 
run  by  the  door  with  your  husband's  head  in  its  mouth,  say  nothing 
till  you  have  consulted  with  the  bishop,"  are  the  exact  words  in  which 
Brigham  counseled  the  women  of  this  district.  Joel  White,  an  impor- 
tant witness,  was  brought  in  with  great  difficulty.  Marshal  Cross 
traversed  the  Great  Desert  alone,  and  found  Klingensmith  in  South- 
ern California.  On  Sunday,  July  18th,  Lee's  "confession"  was  read 
by  the  prosecution,  and  promptly  rejected  as  unworthy  of  belief.  On 
Friday,  the  23d,  the  trial  at  last  began.  After  an  able  opening  ad- 
dress by  District  Attorney  Carey,  Robert  Keyes  was  put  upon  the 
witness  stand,  and  testified  as  follows : 

"  In  October,  1857,  he  passed  through  Mountain  Meadows  valley, 
which  is  situated  south-west  of  Cedar  City.  Saw  two  piles  of  bodies, 
one  composed  of  women  and  children,  the  other  of  men ;  the  bodies 
were  entirely  nude,  and  seemed  to  have  been  thrown  promiscuously 
together;  they  appeared  to  have  been  massacred.  Should  judge  there 
were  sixty  or  seventy  bodies  of  women  and  children ;  saw  one  man  in 
that  pile;  the  children  were  aged  from  one  and  two  months  up  to 
twelve  years ;  the  small  children  were  most  destroyed  by  wolves  and 
crows;  the  throats  of  some  were  cut,  others  stabbed  with  knives;  some 
had  balls  through  them.  All  the  bodies  were  more  or  less  torn  to 
pieces,  except  one,  the  body  of  a  woman,  which  lay  apart  a  little 
south-west  of  the  pile.  This  showed  no  signs  of  decay,  and  had  not 
been  touched  by  the  wild  animals.  The  countenance  was  placid,  and 
seemed  to  be  asleep.  The  work  was  not  freshly  done — supposed  the 
bodies  had  been  here  fifteen  or  sixteen  days.  Witness  passed  the 
ground  October  2d,  1857.  There  were  eleven  in  the  company.  Seven 
went  to  see  the  pile  of  slaughtered  men  which  lay  a  few  rods  off. 
Witness  did  not  go.  All  the  clothing  he  saw  was  a  stocking  on  the 
leg  of  one  of  the  bodies.  The  woman  lying  apart  had  a  bullet  hole 
on  the  left  side,  a  little  below  the  heart." 

Asahel  Bennett,  of  the  same  party,  testified  to  substantially  the  same 
facts.  Then  Philip  Klingensmith  was  called,  and  there  was  a  general 
movement  in  the  audience.  Every  eye  and  ear  was  strained,  and  the 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  507 

man  was  thoroughly  photographed  by  every  attendant.  He  was  a 
heavy,  rather  stolid  looking  Dutchman,  six  feet  high,  well  muscled, 
slow,  heavy,  and  phlegmatic.  He  had  been  indicted  along  with  the 
others,  and  a  nolle  entered.  He  began  with  extreme  slowness,  amount- 
ing almost  to  stupidity,  but  as  he  went  along  gradually  grew  more  ani- 
mated ;  his  dull  eye  lit  up,  the  blue  veins  stood  out  on  his  forehead, 
and  his  every  feature  and  muscle  seemed  to  work  as  in  sympathy  with 
the  horrors  he  was  reciting.  In  the  most  blood-curdling  scene,  where 
he  told  of  the  shooting  of  some  women  who  had  children  in  their 
arms,  every  eye  in  the  room  turned  as  with  one  impulse  to  Lee.  His 
light  hair  fairly  vibrated  with  emotion ;  his  Hibernian  features  were 
mingled  red  and  purple ;  and,  as  he  literally  shook  in  his  chair,  the 
great  veins  stood  out  on  his  neck  like  cords,  and  he  seemed  to  grasp  at 
his  throat  as  if  choking !  In  that  awful  moment  he  tasted  the  bitter- 
ness of  death.  I  would  not  have  recognized  him  as  the  man  at  whose 
table  I  ate,  three  years  before,  on  the  Colorado.  Beside  him  sat  two 
of  his  wives,  and  close  by,  most  of  the  Gentile  ladies  of  Beaver. 
The  material  part  of  Klingensmith's  testimony  ran  thus : 
"  We  were  halted  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  emigrants,  and  in 
full  sight.  A  man  went  on  with  a  flag  of  truce.  A  person  came  out 
from  the  emigrant  camp,  and  Lee  went  down,  and  he  and  the  emigrant 
negotiated.  They  sat  down  and  had  a  long  talk.  Lee  then  went  in- 
side the  camp,  and  the  soldiers  stood  in  line  three  or  four  hours.  Lee 
was  inside  the  intrenchment  most  of  the  time,  and  finally  the  emi- 
grants came  out. 

"  Higbee  ordered  the  proceedings.  Lee  went  ahead  with  the 
wagons  containing  the  men  wounded  in  the  attack  made  by  the 
Indians.  The  young  children  and  women  were  marched  behind. 
The  men  came  out  next  in  double  rank.  The  soldiers  marched 
by  their  side  with  their  pieces  across  their  arms.  We  were  protect- 
ing the  emigrants.  Some  expressed  their  thankfulness  at  being  de- 
livered from  the  Indians.  We  marched  from  a  quarter  to  half  a 
mile,  and  command  was  given  to  halt.  The  soldiers  had  been  in- 
structed when  they  halted  to  fire  on  the  emigrants  ;  might  have  been 
shifted  to  single  rank ;  think  they  were.  Higbee  gave  the  orders  to 
fire ;  suppose  there  were  fifty  men  killed ;  might  have  been  more ; 
none  escaped;  saw  some  attempt;  there  were  mounted  men  to  dis- 
patch the  fugitives.  Bill  Stewart  chased  one  fleeing  man ;  I  think  I 
saw  him  fall ;  he  did  not  go  far.  Ira  Allen  was  mounted  and  placed 
on  the  left  wing.  Witness  was  "with  the  men  in  the  ranks  and  fired 
one  time.  John  M.  Higbee  cut  one  man's  throat.  One  large  woman 


508  WESTERN   WILDS. 

came  running  from  the  wagons  calling  for  her  husband.  A  man 
standing  near  to  me  shot  her  in  the  back,  and  she  fell  dead.  Being 
ordered  to  gather  up  the  children,  I  went  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the 
wagons ;  the  wounded  men  had  been  killed  before  we  got  there ;  did 
not  see  Lee  put  the  children  in  the  wagon ;  went  to  Hamlin's  house. 
The  soldiers  then  dispersed.  The  company  from  Washington  County 
went  south ;  the  company  from  Cedar  City  went  to  Hamlin's.  I  had 
my  hands  full  with  the  children  ;  seventeen  of  them,  from  two  to  seven 
or  eight  years  of  age ;  two  were  wounded,  and  one  died  on  the  way. 
[The  witness  then  details  the  gathering  and  distribution  of  the  prop- 
erty.] The  draught  animals,  wagons,  and  clothing  were  taken  to  Cedar 
City ;  fifty  head  of  the  emigrants'  stock  were  branded  with  the  church 
brand  (a  cross).  [He  also  describes  the  meeting  of  Lee  in  Salt  Lake, 
where  he  had  been  sent  to  report  the  massacre  to  Brigham  Young.] 
Witness  and  Charley  Hopkins  called  upon  Brigham  ;  he  directed  wit- 
ness to  turn  over  the  property  to  Lee.  Brigham  turned  to  witness 
and  said  :  l  What  do  you  know  about  this  affair  ?  Keep  it  secret  and 
don't  talk  about  it  among  yourselves.'  Lee  was  present  at  this  inter- 
view. Fifty  head  of  cattle  were  driven  to  Salt  Lake,  and  sold  to 
Hooper,  formerly  delegate  to  Congress,  for  boots  and  shoes."  [Wit- 
ness then  tells  how  he  was  sent  to  the  old  lead  mines  at  Vegas, 
Arizona,  with  two  others  to  get  lead,  and  when  he  returned,  the 
property  at  Cedar  City  had  been  auctioned  off.] 

Judge  Sutherland  subjected  the  witness  to  a  long  and  searching 
cross-examination,  but  failed  to  shake  his  testimony  in  the  slightest. 
Joel  White  testified  at  great  length  as  to  the  orders  issued  for  calling 
out  the  militia,  which  he  understood  to  come  from  Col.  Dame ;  of  the 
massacre  and  distribution  of  the  property ;  of  the  seventeen  little 
children  saved,  and  of  afterwards  seeing  the  Indian,  deputed  for  that 
purpose,  cut  the  throat  of  the  boy  who  was  "  big  enough  to  remember 
and  talk  about  it."  He  insisted  that  he  took  no  part  in  the  massacre, 
and  only  went  with  the  militia  because  he  feared  death  if  he  refused. 
Klingensmith  had  admitted  actual  participation  in  the  killing. 

Mrs.  Ann  Eliza  Hoge  testified  to  what  was  done  at  both  councils, 
'where  the  massacre  was  determined  and  where  Lee  made  his  report. 
Also  to  hearing  the  boy  say  of  an  Indian :  "He  killed  my  pa — he's 
got  on  my  pa's  clothes,"  and  that  this  boy  was  taken  away  by  John  D. 
Lee,  and  never  seen  again.  Witness  was  a  French  Mormon;  at  the 
time  of  the  massacre  the  wife  of  an  elder  at  Harmony.  I  afterwards 
talked  at  great  length  with  her,  in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  gained  many 
important  particulars. 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  509 

Thomas  D.  Willis  told  of  a  council  Haight  had  with  him  and  his 
father  as  to  the  best  way  to  kill  the  emigrants,  and  confirmed  other 
witnesses  as  to  the  goods  distributed.  John  H.  Willis,  brother  of 
Thomas,  told  of  driving  the  team  which  conveyed  the  children ;  and 
confirmed  many  other  points.  William  Matthews  described  the  rich- 
ness of  the  train ;  the  orders  to  sell  no  corn  to  the  emigrants ;  of  the 
circulation  of  the  story  that  the  emigrants  had  poisoned  a  spring,  and 
other  matters.  William  Young  gave  more  in  detail  the  facts  of  the 
massacre,  where  he  was  present,  and  confirmed  previous  testimony  on 
other  points.  Samuel  Pollock  told  substantially  the  same  story.  John 
Sherratt  testified  to  the  storing  of  the  goods,  including  clothing  from 
the  dead  bodies,  in  the  cellar  of  the  tithing  house  at  Cedar  City,  and 
seeing  it  sold  by  Lee  at  auction.  William  Bradshaw  told  of  sermons 
preached  to  excite  the  people  against  the  emigrants,  and  threats  of 
death  to  all  who  did  not  aid  the  Church  in  whatever  was  commanded. 
Robert  Kershaw  told  the  same  story ;  also  as  to  the  orders  not  to  trade 
with  the  emigrants.  He  wanted  to  sell  them  some  vegetables  and  was 
forbidden.  The  bishops  had  employed  Samuel  Dodge  as  special 
policeman  to  watch  the  train  and  see  that  no  Mormon  sold  them  any 
thing.  John  Morgan  traded  them  a  small  cheese  for  a  bed-quilt,  and 
was  "cut  off "  for  it.  This  man's  testimony  was  of  more  interest  as 
showing  the  rigid  discipline  maintained  in  the  Church,  and  the  danger 
of  disobedience,  than  as  to  the  massacre.  Many  other  witnesses  con- 
firmed the  foregoing,  and  testified  to  facts  I  have  set  forth  in  the  pre- 
vious summary.  All  were  severely  cross-examined,  but  their  testi- 
mony remained  unshaken. 

Five  days  had  passed  when  the  defense  began.  They  first  attempted 
to  prove  the  old  slander,  invented  in  1859,  to  deceive  Judge  Cradle- 
baugh,  that  the  emigrants  had  poisoned  a  spring  near  Corn  Creek,  and 
then  that  they  had  poisoned  the  flesh  of  an  ox  and  given  it  to  the 
Indians  to  eat ;  but  broke  down  completely  on  both  charges.  On  this 
point  Elisha  Hoops  testified : 

"Lived  in  Beaver  in  1857,  and  knew  George  A.  Smith  and  Jesse  N. 
Smith,  ex-Bishop  Farnsworth,  and  other  shining  lights  of  the  Mormon 
Church.  On  September  27th  of  that  year  he  accompanied  the  Smith 
party  as  guard  as  far  north  as  Fillmore ;  camped  at  Corn  Creek,  and 
found  the  Arkansas  emigrants  encamped  there,  about  150  paces  distant. 
Some  members  of  the  company  came  and  talked  to  the  Smith  party; 
they  inquired  of  George  A.  Smith  where  they  could  get  grass  and 
water  to  recuperate  their  animals,  who  referred  them  to  Jacob  Ham- 
lin,  and  he  designated  Mountain  Meadows  as  the  best  grazing  ground. 


510  WESTERN  WILDS. 

An  ox  lay  dead  between  the  two  camps,  and  just  as  witness'  party  was 
about  to  start,  he  saw  a  little  German  doctor,  who  belonged  to  the 
emigrant  company,  draw  a  two-edged  dagger  with  a  silver  guard — 
such  as  gentlemen  carry — and  make  three  thrusts  into  the  ox.  Next 
he  produced  a  small,  half-ounce  vial,  filled  with  a  light  colored  liquid, 
which  he  poured  into  the  knife-holes.  The  question  had  previously 
been  asked  by  these  men  whether  the  Indians  would  be  likely  to  eat 
the  carcass,  and  some  thought  they  would.  Witness  did  not  see  the 
train  again.  Ten  or  fifteen  minutes  after  the  German  had  poisoned 
the  ox,  some  Indians  came  up  and  dickered  with  him  for  it.  They 
finally  gave  him  some  buckskins,  and  then  began  skinning  the  ox. 
Witness  supposed  the  Indians  wanted  the  hide  to  cut  up  into  soles  for 
their  moccasins.  Don't  know  how  long  they  were  flaying  the  animal, 
as  witness'  party  was  driving  away  at  the  time." 

During  noon  recess,  as  it  appears,  some  one  suggested  to  this  witness 
that  he  had  missed  his  mark  in  saying  that  the  ox  was  poisoned  just  as 
they  started  away,  and  that  fifteen  minutes  afterwards  the  Indians  came 
and  bought  the  ox  (which  they  could  have  for  nothing  as  soon  as 
the  emigrants  left),  and  then  flayed  it !  Afternoon  he  tried  to  piece 
out  his  testimony  by  saying  that  the  hame-strap  broke  and  they  were 
delayed  to  fix  it.  Mr.  Baskin  pressed  him  so  closely  on  the  cross- 
examination  that  he  was  completely  tangled.  The  other  witnesses  for 
the  defense  produced  very  little  of  consequence. 

Meanwhile  the  country  had  been  heard  from.  A  roai  of  execration 
had  sounded  from  Maine  to  California,  and  Brigham  felt  the  necessity 
of  being  exonerated.  He  filed  a  deposition,  and  Judge  Sutherland 
attempted  to  get  it  admitted  on  the  trial,  on  the  plea  (sworn  to  in  the 
deposition)  that  Brigham's  health  forbade  his  making  the  journey. 
Only  a  short  time  before  he  had  gone  to  St.  George,  a  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  further  south  than  Beaver.  It  was  not  age  and  ill  health, 
but  the  dread  of  Mr.  Baskin's  cross-examination  that  kept  him  out  of 
the  court-room.  But  his  deposition  was  published  in  the  papers,  and 
proved  an  extraordinary  document.  Here  is  the  material  part  of  it : 

Q.  When  did  you  first  hear  of  the  attack  and  destruction  of  this  Arkansas  company 
at  Mountain  Meadows,  in  September,  1857  ? 

A.  I  did  not  learn  any  thing  of  the  attack  or  destruction  of  the  Arkansas  company 
until  some  time  after  it  had  occurred,  then  only  by  floating  rumors. 

Q.  Did  John  D.  Lee  report  to  you  at  any  time  after  this  massacre  what  had  been  done 
at  that  massacre;  and  if  so,  What  did  you  reply  to  him  in  reference  thereto? 

A.  Within  some  two  or  three  months  after  the  massacre  he  called  at  my  office  and 
had  much  to  say  with  regard  to  the  Indians,  their  being  stirred  up  to  anger  and  threat- 
ening the  settlements  of  the  whites,  and  then  commenced  giving  an  account  of  the 


THE  MORMON  MURDERERS.  511 

massacre.     I  told  him  to  stop,  as,  from  what  I  had  already  learned  by  rumor,  I  did  not 
wish  my  feelings  harrowed  up  with  a  recital  of  details. 

Q.  Did  Philip  Klingensmith  call  at  your  office  with  John  D.  Lee,  at  the  time  of  Lee's 
making  his  report ;  and  did  you  at  that  time  order  him  to  turn  over  the  stock  to  Lee, 
and  order  them  not  to  talk  about  the  massacre  ? 

A.  No.  He  did  not  call  with  John  D.  Lee,  and  I  have  no  recollection  of  his  ever 
speaking  to  me,  nor  I  to  him,  concerning  the  massacre  or  any  thing  pertaining  to  the 
property. 

Q.  Did  you  ever  give  any  directions  concerning  the  property  taken  from  the  emi- 
grants at  the  Mountain  Meadows  massacre,  or  know  any  thing  as  to  its  disposition  ? 

A.  No.  I  never  gave  any  directions  concerning  the  property  taken  from  the  emi- 
grants at  the  Mountain  Meadows  massacre ;  nor  did  I  know  any  thing  of  that  property 
or  its  disposal,  and  I  do  not  to  this  day,  except  from  public  rumor. 

Q.  Why  did  you  not,  as  Governor,  institute  proceedings  forthwith  to  investigate  the 
massacre  and  bring  the  guilty  authors  to  justice  ? 

A.  Because  another  Governor  had  been  appointed  by  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  was  then  on  the  way  here  to  take  my  place,  and  I  did  not  know  how  soon  he 
might  arrive;  and  because  the  United  States  Judges  were  not  in  the  Territory.  Soon 
after  Governor  Gumming  arrived,  I  asked  him  to  take  Judge  Cradlebaugh,  who  belonged 
to  the  Southern  District,  with  him,  and  I  would  accompany  them  with  sufficient  aid  to 
investigate  the  matter  and  bring  the  offenders  to  justice. 

Q.  Did  you,  about  the  10th  of  September,  1857,  receive  a  communication  from  Isaac 
C.  Haight,  or  any  other  person  of  Cedar  City,  concerning  a  company  of  emigrants,  called 
the  Arkansas  company? 

A.  I  did  receive  a  communication  from  Isaac  C.  Haight  or  John  D.  Lee,  who  was 
then  a  farmer  for  the  Indians. 

Q.  Have  you  that  communication  ? 

A.  I  have  not.     I  have  made  a  diligent  search  for  it,  but  can  not  find  it. 

Q.  Did  you  answer  this  communication  ? 

A.  I  did,  to  Isaac  C.  Haight,  who  was  then  the  acting  President  at  Cedar  City. 

Q.  Will  you  state  the  substance  of  your  letter  to  him  ? 

A.  Yes.  It  was  to  let  this  company  of  emigrants  and  all  companies  of  emigrants 
pass  through  the  country  unmolested,  and  to  allay  the  angry  feelings  of  the  Indians  as 
much  as  possible. 

(Signed)  BRIGHAM  YOUNG. 

Here  was  a  Governor,  Prophet,  Indian  Superintendent,  and  absolute 
head  of  a  theocracy,  who  only  heard  of  a  massacre  "  some  two  or  three 
months  after  it  occurred,"  by  "floating  rumors,"  and  refused  to  listen 
to  an  account  of  it  lest  he  might  have  his  "feelings  harrowed  up!!" 
Too  tender-hearted  to  do  his  sworn  duty !  And  so  ignorant  of  what 
was  going  on  that  he  heard  "  only  rumors."  Verily,  the  world  has 
been  sadly  mistaken  about  Brighani  Young. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

GUILTY    OR    NOT    GUILTY? 

THE  case  went  to  the  jury,  and  all  Utah  Avaited  in  deep  suspense 
for  the  verdict.  Among  Gentiles  the  general  voice  was:  "  Brigham 
can't  afford  to  let  him  be  convicted — the  Church  must  stand  by  Lee." 
The  evidence  was  conclusive  of  guilt,  but  we  all  knew  that  Church 
policy  alone  would  dictate  the  verdict;  and  it  was  evident  the  jury 
had  been  "  counseled."  Agreeable  to  Western  instincts,  there  was 
much  betting  on  the  result,  the  odds  largely  against  conviction.  But 
Hon.  George  C.  Bates,  the  Church  attorney,  soon  arrived  at  Salt 
Lake  City,  and  telegraphed  to  John  W.  Young,  Brigham's  "  apostate 
son,"  as-  he  was  then  called,  that  conviction  was  agreed  upon;  and 
John  W.  took  all  the  bets  offered.  He  was  in  the  Board  of  Trade 
rooms  at  Chicago,  while  Johnnie  Young,  Brigham's  nephew,  went 
about  Salt  Lake  City  doing  the  same.  Then  it  was  known  that  the 
Church  had  taken  the  least  of  two  evils,  and  resolved  to  convict. 

But  all  parties  were  mistaken.  And  this  from  a  miscalculation  on 
the  part  of  the  Church.  It  appears  that  just  before  the  trial  the  Mor- 
mon leaders  concluded  that  they  could  keep  away  the  most  important 
witnesses;  that  the  prosecution  would  therefore  break  down,  and  it 
would  be  safe  to  acquit.  So  the  Mormon  jurymen  were  "counseled" 
to  that  effect.  But  Baskin  and  Carey  completely  outgeneraled  the 
Church  and  its  attorneys;  the  vigor  and  daring  of  the  United  States 
marshals  insured  the  attendance  of  the  proper  witnesses,  and  a  far 
worse  case  was  proved  than  even  the  bitterest  anti-Mormon  had 
looked  for.  It  was  then  decided  by  the  Church  to  convict;  but  it 
•\vas  too  late.  Seven  deputy  marshals  had  been  sworn  in  to  watch 
the  jury;  and  of  the  three  Gentiles  on  the  panel,  each  constituted  him- 
self a  special  detective  to  see  that  no  hint  from  outside  reached  his 
Mormon  colleagues.  Even  their  correspondence  was  withheld  unless 
they  would  consent  to  have  it  first  read  by  the  judge.  Signals  were 
made  to  them  in  open  court,  but  they  failed  to  understand  what  was 
wanted.  They  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  storm  of  rage  sweep- 
ing over  the  country,  and  its  effect  on  their  priestly  masters,  and  so 
obeyed  their  first  instructions.  They  had  all  sworn  they  knew  nothing 

(512; 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTY? 


513 


of  the  case;  but  on  reaching  the  jury  room,  they  proceeded  to  contro- 
vert the  testimony  for  the  prosecution  by  facts  within  their  own 
knowledge.  The  vote  stood  from  first  to  last,  nine  for  acquittal  and 
three  for  conviction.  The  majority  first  installed  the  Jack-Mormon, 
J.  C.  Heister,  in  the  chair,  and  then  one  by  one  delivered  elaborate 
Mormon  sermons :  against  the  prosecuting  attorneys,  against  the 
court  and  all  Federal  officials,  against  the  emigrants,  against  the 
United  States,  against  all  who  were  not  of  the  Mormon  Church  or 
its  most  subservient  tools.  It  was  perhaps  the  most  curious  and 
irregular  jury  proceeding  ever  had  in  any  civilized  country.  The 
three  Gentiles  on  the  panel  held  their  ground  for  two  days,  smiling 
grimly  on  their  foes,  and  willing  to  see  the  latter  commit  themselves; 


SALT  LAKE  CITY— 1857. 

then  consented  to  a  disagreement.  Promptly,  as  if  pulled  by  one 
string,  all  the  Mormon  papers  appeared  with  articles  having  a  won- 
derful family  resemblance,  and  claiming  that  the  verdict  was  a  com- 
plete vindication  of  the  Church,  and  a  "pointed  rebuke  to  the  prose^ 
cution ! "  And  to  cap  the  climax  of  absurdity,  Captain  John  Cod-* 
man,  their  Eastern  apologist,  rushed  into  the  New  York  prints  with 
an  effusive  statement  that  "  Gentile  slanderers  were  at  last  silenced, 
and  President  Brigham  Young  fully  exonerated  !  " 

One  can  scarcely  say  whether  the  Americans  in  Utah  were  pleased 
or  chagrined  at  the  result  of  this  trial.  They  knew  that  justice 
would  some  day  be  done,  and  meanwhile  the  action  of  the  Church 
would  rouse  the  indignation  of  the  whole  country.  But  even  they 
had  underrated  this  effect.  There  was  a  storm  of  rage  in  the  Rockv 
33 


514  WESTERN    WILDS. 

Mountains;  the  Pacific  Coast  papers  bristled  with  denunciations  of 
Brigham  and  the  leading  Mormons.  The  staidest  journals  seemed  to 
grow  wild.  One  advocated  a  reign  of  martial  law  till  every  murderer 
in  Utah  was  executed.  Another  called  for  the  immediate  arrest  of 
Brigham,  on  a  bench  warrant,  before  he  could  fly  the  country.  And 
still  another  complained  that  the  civil  law  was  too  slow :  "  The 
streets  of  Salt  Lake  should  be  ornamented  with  the  heads  of  the 
Mormon  leaders."  Then  came  answering  echoes  from  the  East. 
Nearly  every  influential  paper  in  the  country  called  for  prompt  jus- 
tice. Utah  was  excited  as  I  never  saw  it  before.  The  six  Mormon 
papers  literally  bowed  before  the  blast,  and  appeared  afraid  to  say  any 
thing,  or  had  nothing  to  say.  Beyond  a  few  commonplaces  about 
"waiting  for  the  facts,"  and  deprecating  "the  mob  spirit,"  they 
attempted  no  defense.  In  the  States  were  two  journals  which  can 
always  be  depended  on  to  espouse  the  cause  of  the  Mormons  in  every 
emergency — the  Omaha  Herald  and  the  Washington  Capital.  But 
both  remained  silent  over  this  affair,  virtually  admitting  that  the 
worst  was  proved  against  the  Mormons.  Captain  Codman,  with  a 
faithful  friendship  that  did  him  honor,  came  to  the  rescue  of  Brigham- 
in  the  columns  of  the  New  York  Post;  and  the  editor  of  that  paper 
mildly  hinted  that  the  Mountain  Meadow  massacre  was  "  a  feature  of 
the  Mormon  rebellion  of  1857,"  and  had  perhaps  been  condoned  by 
Buchanan's  proclamation  of  amnesty,  made  in  1858.  Beyond  these 
no  word  of  palliation  was  heard ;  the  press  and  the  country  were 
unanimous  in  the  opinion  that  the  Mormon  theocracy  was  morally 
responsible  for  this  great  crime,  and  that  a  solemn  duty  devolved 
upon  the  government  to  see  that  full  justice  was  done. 

But  of  all  the  Mormons  in  Utah,  the  case  of  none  excited  such 
horror  and  regret  among  the  Gentiles  as  that  of  Hon.  W.  H.  Hooper. 
It  is  proved  that  he  received  forty  head  of  the  murdered  emigrants' 
cattle ;  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  that  he,  a  Mormon  high  in  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Church,  could  have  been  ignorant  of  the  matter.  And 
yet  he,  through  all  his  congressional  career,  again  and  again,  and  that 
most  bitterly,  laid  the  whole  affair  on  the  Indians;  and  more  than 
once,  in  company  with  senators,  he  solemnly  swore  that  no  Mormon 
had  any  thing  to  do  with  it.  He  even  employed  journalists  to  \vrite 
up  the  Mormon  view  of  the  case.  And  can  it  be  possible  that  all 
that  time  he  knew  it  was  a  cruel  lie?  Can  it  be  that  he  has  taken  the 
money  of  the  Government  even  while  employing  fraud  and  perjury  to 
defeat  j ustice,  and  shield  those  who  had  murdered  its  citizens?  If  so, 
this  earth  has  no  damnation  deep  enough  for  him.  But  among  his 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTY?  515 

Gentile  friends  there  is  still  some  hope.  It  is  barely  possible  that  he 
may  have  been  deceived ;  that  while  all  other  leading  Mormons  knew 
the  facts,  he  was  kept  in  ignorance.  From  every  part  of  Utah  came 
implorings  for  some  explanation  in  his  favor;  and  if  it  shall  appear 
that  he  acted  innocently  and  ignorantly,  ten  thousand  Gentiles  will  be 
gratified. 

A  calm  followed  the  storm,  and  Utah  took  a  rest  till  the  next 
term  of  court.  It  was  proposed  by  a  few  Mormons  that  Lee  should 
be  brought  to  Salt  Lake  City  and  tried ;  but  the  proposition  was  so 
readily  favored  by  the  prosecution  that  it  was  promptly  withdrawn. 
Fourteen  months  passed,  and  Lee  came  to  his  second  trial  in  Sep- 
tember, 1876.  It  excited  far  less  attention  in  the  East,  for  the 
nation  was  then  busy  with  national  concerns.  But  it  was  evident, 
almost  from  the  start,  that  the  Church  had  at  last  decided  to  sacrifice 
Lee.  The  evidence,  as  on  the  former  trial,  was  overwhelming,  and 
Daniel  H.  Wells,  Brigham's  right-hand  man,  was  present  all  the  time 
to  see  that  every  thing  went  right.  The  witnesses  for  the  defense  had 
forgotten  all  they  ever  knew;  Mormons,  for  the  prosecution,  testified 
with  amazing  fluency.  Lee  was  doomed.  The  Church  was  present 
in  spirit,  and  by  her  representative,  consenting  unto  his  death. 
W.  "W.  Bishop,  Esq.,  the  prisoner's  counsel,  was  completely  taken  by  sur- 
prise when  he  saw  that  the  Church  was  actually  aiding  the  prosecu- 
tion. It  was  so  totally  unlike  what  he  had  a  right  to  expect.  His 
theory  now  is  that  the  prosecuting  attorney,  or  some  one  in  author- 
ity, had  a  secret  understanding  with  Brigham  Young  to  the  effect 
that  if  Lee  were  convicted  and  executed,  the  matter  would  stop  there, 
and  the  main  obstacle  to  the  admission  of  Utah  as  a  State  be 
removed.  Mr.  Bishop  has  a  great  deal  to  learn  about  the  duplicity 
and  treachery  of  the  Mormon  leaders.  Five  years  residence  in 
Utah  would  clear  his  vision  considerably. 

And  now  occurred  one  of  those  strange  transformations  for  which 
Utah  is  notorious.  On  the  former  trial  the  prosecution  had  sought 
to  show  that  Lee  acted  as  a  Mormon,  inspired  by  some  orders  or 
hints  from  the  heads  of  the  Church.  Now  Sumner  Howard,  Esq., 
U.  S.  District  Attorney,  emphatically  disclaimed  all  intention  to  im- 
plicate the  Church,  and  hinted  that  the  conviction  of  Lee  would  be 
the  exoneration  of  Brigham.  Mr.  Bishop,  for  the  defense,  on  the 
other  hand,  made  a  fierce  assault  on  the  heads  of  the  Church,  for 
their  evident  intention  to  sacrifice  Lee.  He  said : 

"I  see  a  State  government  looming  up  in  the  distance.  I  see  a 
future  prospect  for  individuals,  political  and  financial.  I  see  a  shift- 


516  WESTERN   WILDS. 

ing  of  the  responsibility  for  this  crime  upon  John  D.  Lee,  and  I  see 
the  Gentiles,  who  aid  the  shifting,  riding  into  the  United  States 
Senate."  Mr.  Howard  disclaimed  any  such  bargain,  but  stated  his 
satisfaction  at  the  fact  that  the  jury  was  composed  entirely  of  Mor- 
mons. He  told  them  that  Mormon  juries  were  now  on  trial,  and 
their  verdict  must  decide  whether  their  church  was  to  stand  before 
the  world  convicted  of  shielding  assassins.  Despite  his  disclaimer,  it 
is  generally  believed  in  Utah  that  the  Mormon  authorities  were  led 
to  believe  the  death  of  Lee  would  strengthen  them  before  Congress. 
As  strategy,  this  was  a  great  success  for  the  prosecution;  whether  it 
was  "professional,"  lawyers  must  decide.  One  thing,  however,  is 
certain:  it  did  not  produce  the  effect  desired  by  Brigham;  the  world 
is  more  than  ever  convinced  of  his  connivance  at  crime  or  conceal- 
ment of  crime. 

.  My  sometime  friend,  Jacob  Hamlin,  figured  extensively  on  this 
trial.  Without  a  blush  he  succeeded  in  remembering  a  score  of 
things  he  had  forgotten  on  former  occasions ;  and  gave,  at  great 
length,  Lee's  statement  to  him,  made  soon  after  the  tragedy.  Lee 
told  him  in  detail  of  the  murder  of  the  two  girls  who  escaped  the 
general  massacre ;  and  the  manner  in  which  Hamlin  recited  Lee's  ac- 
count convinced  some  who  heard  it  that  another  crime  was  com- 
mitted before  the  girls  were  killed. 

Hamlin  testified  that  he  had  never  before  repeated  Lee's  words 
except  to  George  A.  Smith  and  Brigham  Young,  and  that  Brigham. 
told  him  "to  keep  still  about  these  things  till  the  proper  time  came 
to  tell  it  all ! "  I  ask  the  Eastern  reader  to  pause  at  this  point,  and 
ponder  this  startling  fact.  Here  was  Jacob  Hamlin,  a  most  reputa- 
ble citizen  of  southern  Utah,  a  man  whom  I  know  to  be  in  many 
respects  high-toned  and  honorable,  receiving  the  confession  of  a 
double-dyed  murderer,  carrying  it  in  his  mind  all  these  nineteen 
years,  and  never  going  near  a  court  or  grand  jury,  never  breathing  it 
to  an  officer,  just  because  Brigham  Young  so  commanded !  And  in  the 
spring  of  1859,  when  Brigham  made  a  great  show  of  wanting  the 
matter  investigated,  Hamlin  was  with  General  W.  H.  Carleton  and 
other  U.  S.  officials — gave  them  a  circumstantial  account  of  "  this  In- 
dian massacre,"  assisted  them  to  gather  up  the  children,  and  could 
not  remember  any  thing  whatever  tending  to  criminate  a  white  man. 
At  the  mere  request  of  Brigham  Young  this  most  excellent  citizen, 
whom  I  know  by  personal  intercourse  to  be  a  pleasant  gentleman,  a 
patriarch  in  his  town,  told  lie  on  top  of  lie,  and  covered  himself 
fathoms  deep  with  perjury  to  screen  his  brother  Mormon.  And 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTYf  517 

"when  the  proper  time  came,"  with  sublime  coolness  he  came  into 
court  and  told  it  all,  still  at  the  command  of  Brigham  Young ! 
And  yet  there  are  lawyers  in  the  East,  and  statesmen  in  Congress, 
who  will  maintain  that  Brigham  had  no  control  in  southern  Utah  in 
1857 ;  that  the  massacre  was  done  against  his  wish ;  that  he  did  not 
know  of  it,  in  fact! 

"Oh,  judgment!  thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts, 
And  men  have  lost  their  reason." 

Samuel  Knight  and  Samuel  McMurdy  testified  to  seeing  Lee  kill 
several  persons;  that  he  blew  a  woman's  brains  out,  beat  one  man  to 
death  with  a  gun,  and  shot  others;  then  came  to  the  wagons  and  shot 
all  the  wounded  men  with  a  pistol.  At  this  point  in  the  testimony 
Lee  broke  down,  and  when  remanded  to  his  cell  walked  the  floor  a 
long  time,  cursing  the  Mormon  leaders  who,  he  said,  had  betrayed 
him.  He  knew,  even  before  his  attorney  did,  that  the  Church  had 
decided  to  give  him  up;  he  had  suspected  this  at  the  start,  and  urged 
his  attorney  to  secure  a  few  Gentiles  on  the  jury,  in  the  hope  that 
they  might  revolt  against  this  conspiracy.  But  this  had  proved  im- 
possible. All  the  Gentiles  called  had  heard  or  read  of  the  case ;  the 
Mormons  called  "had  never  heard  of  it,  and  had  formed  no  opinion." 
For  "model  jurors"  they  could  beat  New  York  City.  When  the 
argument  of  counsel  began,  the  defense  had  no  recourse  but  to 
abuse  the  witnesses.  Mr.  Bishop  took  the  broad  ground  that  all 
those  present  at  the  massacre  were  equally  guilty  and  not  to  be  be- 
lieved. 

At  noon  of  September  20th,  Judge  Boreman  delivered  his  charge 
to  the  jury;  they  retired,  and  at  3:30  P.  M.  returned  into  court  with 
this  verdict: 

BEAVER  CITY,  Sept.  20,  1876. 

We,  the  jurors,  duly  sworn  and  impaneled  to  try  the  case  wherein  John  D.  Lee  is  in- 
dicted for  murder,  do  find  the  said  John  D.  Lee  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree. 

A.  M.  FARNSWORTH,  Foreman. 

By  order  of  the  Court,  the  Marshal  brought  Lee  to  the  bar.  The 
Court  asked : 

"John  D.  Lee,  have  you  any  thing  to  say  why  the  sentence  of 
death  should  not  be  pronounced  against  you  in  accordance  with  the 
verdict  of  the  jury?" 

Lee  :  "  I  have  not." 

Court :  "  You,  John  D.  Lee,  prisoner  at  the  bar,  have,  by  the  ver- 
dict of  a  jury,  been  found  guilty  of  murder  in  the  first  degree.  The 
proof  was  clear  and  positive.  At  the  trial  last  year  the  evidences  of 


518  WESTERN  WILDS. 

guilt  were  plain,  but  three-fourths  of  the  jury,  from  some  cause,  were 
then  for  your  acquittal.  The  testimony  on  the  present  trial  is  mainly 
from  witnesses  who  could  not  then  be  obtained.  From  some  cause 
this  evidence  is  now  unsealed,  and  the  witnesses  are  found  ready  in 
your  case  to  tell  what  part  you  played  in  the  great  crime.  They  will 
hereafter  have  opportunity  of  telling  what  others  did  to  aid  in  plan- 
ning and  executing  it.  The  fact  that  the  evidence  was  not  brought 
out  on  this  trial  to  criminate  some  other  leaders,  does  not  show  that 
such  evidence  does  not  exist.  *  *  *  According  to  the  evidence 
on  the  former  trial,  the  massacre  seems  to  haye  been  the  result  of  a 
vast  conspiracy  extending  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  the  bloody  field. 
The  emigrants  were  hounded  all  along  the  line  of  travel,  and  no- 
where were  the  citizens  permitted  to  give  or  sell  them  any  thing  to 
sustain  life  in  man  or  animal,  though  they  were  in  great  need 
thereof. 

"The  men  who  actually  participated  in  the  deed  are  not  the  only 
guilty  parties.  Although  the  evidence  shows  plainly  that  you  were 
a  willing  participant  in  the  massacre;  yet  both  trials  taken  together 
show  that  others,  and  some  high  in  authority,  inaugurated  and  de- 
cided upon  the  wholesale  slaughter  of  the  emigrants.  That  slaughter 
took  place  nineteen  years  ago.  From  that  time  to  the  present  term 
of  court  there  has  been  throughout  the  Territory  a  persistent  and 
determined  opposition  to  any  investigation  of  the  massacre.  *  *  * 
But  their  efforts  to  smother  and  crush  out  investigation  were  found 
to  avail  them  no  longer.  It  was  impossible  to  longer  delay  when 
the  inside  facts  of  the  conspiracy  should  be  brought  out;  and  they 
have  suddenly  changed  their  policy,  and  seem  now  to  be  consenting 
to  your  death.  *  *  *  The  unoifending  victims,  though  their 
mouths  are  closed  in  this  world,  will  meet  you  at  the  bar  of  Al- 
mighty God,  where  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  made  known. 
And  the  guilty  can  not  avoid  that  tribunal.  *  *  *  In  accordance 
with  the  verdict  of  the  jury,  and  the  law,  it  becomes  my  duty  to  pass 
the  sentence  of  death  upon  you ;  and  in  doing  this  the  statute  requires 
that  you  may  have  a  choice,  if  you  desire,  of  three  different  modes 
of  execution,  to-wit :  by  hanging,  by  shooting,  or  by  beheading. 
If  you  have  any  choice  or  desire  in  this  respect,  you  can  now  ex- 
press it." 

Lee :  "  I  prefer  to  be  shot." 

Court :  "  As  you  have  made  choice,  and  expressed  it,  that  you  be 
executed  by  being  shot,  it  follows  that  such  shall  be  the  judgment 
of  the  Court.  The  judgment  of  the  Court,  therefore,  is,  that  you  be 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTY f  519 

taken  hence  to  a  place  of  confinement  within  this  Territory;  that 
you  there  be  safely  kept  in  confinement  until  Friday,  the  26th  day 
of  January,  1877 ;  that  between  the  hours  of  10  o'clock  A.  M.  and 
3  o'clock  P.  M.  of  that  day,  you  be  taken  from  your  place  of  confine- 
ment and  in  this  district  publicly  shot  until  you  are  dead;  and  may 
Almighty  God  have  mercy  on  your  soul ! " 

But  an  appeal  was  taken,  and  the  Supreme  Court  of  Utah  sus- 
pended the  execution.  The  case  was  heard  in  that  court,  and  an  able 
opinion  delivered  by  Justice  Philip  H.  Emerson,  fully  sustaining  the 
court  below,  and  concurred  in  by  all  the  justices.  The  mandate  di- 
rected the  Second  District  Court  to  fix  a  new  date  for  execution,  and 
Judge  Boreman  named  Friday,  March  23,  1877.  There  was  much 
talk  of  an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  but 
none  was  taken,  though  Congress  has  granted  this. privilege  in  murder 
cases  to  Utah  alone  of  all  the  Territories.  Still  Lee  did  not  give  up 
all  hope.  There  are  mysterious  hints  of  a  secret  understanding  be- 
tween him  and  the  district  attorney,  by  which  the  latter  was  to  secure 
a  pardon  or  commutation  in  return  for  evidence  that  would  convict 
all  the  others  guilty  of  complicity  in  the  massacre.  Lee's  wife,  Rachel, 
shared  his  confinement  to  the  last,  and  Lee  worked  steadily  on  his 
confession.  But  if  there  was  any  such  agreement,  it  was  set  aside,  and 
the  convicted  man  at  last  resigned  all  hope.  He  then  wrote  out  a 
full  confession,  and  gave  it  to  the  district  attorney ;  but  the  latter  has 
only  published  such  portions  as  would  in  no  way  interfere  with  his 
plans  for  convicting  others.  A  previous  confession  written  by  Lee, 
and  delivered  to  his  attorney,  W.  "VV.  Bishop,  Esq.,  has  also  been  pub- 
lished— the  lawyer  having  agreed  with  Lee  to  sell  the  paper  to  the 
press,  take  his  fee  therefrom,  and  pay  over  the  remainder  to  Rachel. 
In  these  confessions  Lee  at  last  tells  nearly  all  the  truth,  still  shield- 
ing himself,  however,  and  denying  any  actual  killing.  I  append  the 
most  important  sections : 

My  name  is  John  Doyle  Lee.  I  was  born  September  6,  1812,  at  Kaskaskia,  Kandolph 
County,  Illinois.  My  mother  belonged  to  the  Catholic  Church,  and  I  was  christened  in 
the  faith.  My  parents  died  while  I  was  still  a  child,  and  iny  boyhood  was  one  of  trial 
and  hardship.  I  married  Agatha  Ann  Woolsey  in  1833,  and  moved  to  Fayette  County, 
Illinois,  on  Sucker  Creek.  There  I  became  wealthy.  In  1836  I  became  acquainted  with 
some  traveling  Mormon  preachers.  I  bought,  read,  and  believed  *Jie  Book  of  Mormon. 
I  sold  my  property  in  Illinois,  and  moved  to  Far  West,  in  Missouri,  in  1837,  where  I 
joined  the  Mormon  Church,  and  became  intimately  acquainted  with  Joseph  Smith,  Brig- 
ham  Young,  and  other  leaders  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints.  I 
was  subsequently  initiated  into  the  order  of  Danites  at  its  first  formation.  The  mem- 
bers of  tnis  order  were  solemnly  sworn  to  obey  all  the  orders  of  the  priesthood  of  the 
Mormon  Cnurch,  to  d,o  any  and  all  things  as  commanded.  The  "  destroying  angels " 


520  WESTERN   WILDS. 

of  the  Mormon  Church  were  selected  from  this  organization.  I  took  an  active  part  as  a 
Mormon  soldier,  as  it  was  the  recurring  conflicts  between  the  people  and  the  Mormons 
which  made  Jackson  County,  Missouri,  historic  ground.  When  the  Mormons  were  er.- 
pelled  from  Missouri,  I  was  one  of  the  first  to  settle  at  Nauvoo,  Illinois,  where  I  took  an 
active  part  in  all  that  was  done  by  the  Church  or  city.  I  had  charge  of  the  construc- 
tion of  many  public  buildings  there,  and  was  the  policeman  and  body-guard  of  Joseph 
Smith  at  Nauvoo.  After  his  death  I  held  the  same  position  to  Brigham  Young,  who 
succeeded  Joseph  Smith  as  Prophet,  Priest,  and  Revelator  in  the  Church.  I  was  Ke- 
corder  for  the  Quorum  of  Seventy,  head  clerk  of  the  Church,  and  organized  the  priest- 
hood in  the  Order  of  Seventy.  I  took  all  the  degrees  of  the  Endowment  House,  and 
stood  high  in  the  priesthood.  I  traveled  extensively  throughout  the  United  States  as  a 
Mormon  missionary,  and  acted  as  trader  and  financial  agent  of  the  Church.  From  the 
death  of  Joseph  Smith  until  the  settlement  at  Salt  Lake  City,  I  was  one  of  the  locating 
committee  that  selected  sites  for  various  towns  and  cities  in  Utah  Territory.  I  held 
many  offices  in  the  Territory,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Mormon  legislature,  and  was 
probate  judge  of  Washington  County,  Utah.  Immediately  after  Joseph  Smith  received 
the  revelation  concerning  polygamy,  I  was  informed  of  its  doctrines  by  said  Joseph  Smith 
and  the  Apostles.  I  believe  in  the  doctrine,  and  have  been  sealed  to  eighteen  women, 
three  of  whom  are  sisters,  and  one  was  the  mother  of  three  of  my  wives.  I  was  sealed 
to  this  old  woman  for  her  soul's  salvation.  I  was  an  honored  man  in  the  Church,  flat- 
tered and  regarded  by  Brigham  Young  and  the  Apostles,  until  1868,  when  I  was  cut  off 
from  the  Church  and  selected  as  a  scapegoat  to  suffer  for  and  bear  the  sins  of  my  people. 
As  a  duty  to  myself  and  mankind  I  now  confess  all  that  I  did  at  the  Mountain  Mead- 
ow Massacre,  without  animosity  to  any  one,  shielding  none,  and  giving  the  facts  as  they 
existed.  Those  with  me  at  that  time  were  acting  under  orders  from  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints.  The  horrid  deeds  then  committed  were  done  as  a  duty 
which  we  believed  we  owed  to  God  and  our  Church.  We  were  all  sworn  to  secrecy  be- 
fore and  after  the  massacre.  The  penalty  for  giving  information  concerning  it  was 
death.  As  I  am  to  suffer  death  for  what  I  then  did,  and  have  been  betrayed  both  by 
those  who  gave  orders  to  act  and  those  who  were  the  most  active  of  my  assistants,  I 
now  give  the  world  the  true  facts  as  they  exist,  and  tell  why  the  massacre  was  com- 
mitted, and  who  were  the  active  participants. 

In  the  month  of  September,  1857,  the  company  of  emigrants,  known  as  the  "  Arkansas 
Company,"  arrived  in  Parowan,  Iron  County,  Utah,  on  their  way  to  California.  At 
Parowan  young  Aden,  one  of  the  company,  saw  and  recognized  one  William  Laney,  a 
Mormon  resident  of  Parowan.  Aden  and  his  father  had  rescued  Laney  from  an  anti- 
Mormon  mob  in  Tennessee  several  years  before,  and  saved  his  life.  He  (Laney),  at  the 
time  he  was  attacked  by  the  mob,  was  a  Mormon  missionary  in  Tennessee.  Laney  was 
glad  to  see  his  friend  and  benefactor,  and  invited  him  to  his  house,  and  gave  him  some 
garden  sauce  to  take  back  to  the  camp  with  him. 

The  same  evening  it  was  reported  to  Bishop  (Colonel)  Dame  that  Laney  had  given 
potatoes  and  onions  to  the  man  Aden,  one  of  the  emigrants.  When  the  report  was  made 
to  Bishop  Dame  he  raised  his  hand  and  crooked  his  little  finger  in  a  significant  manner 
to  one  Barney  Carter,  his  brother-in-law,  and  one  of  the  "  Angels  of  Death."  Carter, 
without  another  word,  walked  out,  went  to  Laney's  house  with  a  long  picket  in  his 
hand,  called  Laney  out,  and  struck  him  a  heavy  blow  on  the  head,  fracturing  his  skull, 
and  left  him  on  the  ground  for  dead.  C.  Y.  Webb  and  Isaac  Newman,  President  of  the 
"  High  Council,"  both  told  me  that  they  saw  Dame's  maneuvers.  James  McGuffee,  then 
a  resident  of  Parowan — but  through  oppression  has  been  forced  to  leave  there,  and  is 
now  a  merchant  in  Pahranagat  valley,  near  Pioche,  Nevada — knows  these  facts. 

About  the  last  of  August,  1857,  some  ten  days  before  the  Mountain    Meadow   Massa- 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTYf  521 

ere,  the  company  of  emigrants  passed  through  Cedar  City.  George  A  Smith — then 
First  Councilor  in  the  Church  and  Brigham  Young's  right-hand  man — came  down  from 
Salt  Lake  City,  preaching  to  the  different  settlements.  I,  at  that  time,  was  in  Washing- 
ton County,  near  where  St.  George  now  stands.  He  sent  for  me.  I  went  to  him,  and 
he  asked  me  to  take  him  to  Cedar  City  by  way  of  Fort  Clara  and  Pinto  settlements,  as 
he  was  on  business,  and  must  visit  all  the  settlements.  We  started  on  our  way  up 
through  the  canon.  We  saw  bands  of  Indians,  and  he  (George  A.  Smith)  remarked  to 
me  that  these  Indians,  with  the  advantage  they  had  of  the  rocks,  could  use  up  a  large 
company  of  emigrants,  or  make  it  very  hot  for  them.  After  pausing  for  a  short  time 
he  said  to  me,  "  Brother  Lee,  what  do  you  think  the  brethren  would  do  if  a  company 
of  emigrants  should  come  down  through  here  making  threats?  Don't  vou  think  they 
would  pitch  into  them?"  I  replied  that  "they  certainly  would."  This  seemed  to  please 
him,  and  he  again  said  to  me,  "And  you  really  think  the  brethren  would  pitch  into 
them?"  "I  certainly  do,"  was  my  reply;  "and  you  had  better  instruct  Colonel  Dame 
and  Haight  to  attend  to  it  that  the  emigrants  are  permitted  to  pass,  if  you  want  them  to 
pass  unmolested."  He  continued:  "I  asked  Isaac  (meaning  Haight)  the  same  question, 
and  he  answered  me  just  as  you  do,  and  I  expect  the  boys  would  pitch  into  them."  I 
again  said  to  him  that  he  had  better  say  to  Governor  Young,  that  if  he  wants  emigrant 
companies  to  pass  without  molestation,  that  he  must  instruct  Colonel  Dame  or  Major 
Haight  to  that  effect ;  for  if  they  are  not  ordered  otherwise,  they  will  use  them  up  by  the 
help  of  the  Indians. 

The  confession  then  tells  of  the  councils  in  which  the  destruction 
of  the  emigrants  was  decreed ;  the  gathering  of  the  Mormon  militia, 
and  the  siege  down  to  the  time  treachery  was  decided  upon,  and  con- 
tinues as  follows : 

The  plan  agreed  upon  there  was  to  meet  them  with  a  flag  of  truce,  tell  them  that  the 
Indians  were  determined  on  their  destruction;  that  we  dare  not  oppose  the  Indians,  for 
we  were  at  their  mercy ;  that  the  best  we  could  do  for  them  (the  emigrants)  was  to  get 
them  and  what  few  traps  we  could  take  in  the  wagons,  to  lay  their  arms  in  the  bottom 
of  the  wagon,  and  cover  them  up  with  bed-clothes,  and  start  for  the  settlement  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  to  trust  themselves  in  our  hands.  The  small  children  and  wounded 
were  to  go  with  the  two  wagons,  the  women  to  follow  the  wagons  and  the  men  next,  the 
troops  to  stand  in  readiness  on  the  east  side  of  the  road  ready  to  receive  them.  Shirtz 
and  Nephi  Johnson  were  to  conceal  the  Indians  in  the  brush  and  rocks  till  the  company 
was  strung  out  on  the  road  to  a  certain  point,  and  at  the  watchword  "Halt!  do  your 
duty ! "  each  man  was  to  cover  his  victim  and  fire.  Johnson  and  Shirtz  were  to  rally 
the  Indians,  and  rush  upon  and  dispatch  the  women  and  larger  children. 

It  was  further  told  the  men  that  President  Haight  said  that  if  we  were  united  in  car- 
rying out  the  instructions,  we  would  receive  a  "  celestial  reward."  I  said  I  was  willing 
to  put  up  with  a  less  reward,  if  I  could  be  excused.  "  How  can  you  do  this  without 
shedding  innocent  blood?"  Here  I  got  another  lampooning  for  my  stubbornness  and 
disobedience  to  the  priesthood.  I  was  told  that  there  was  not  a  drop  of  innocent  blood  to 
the  whole  company  of  emigrants,  and  was  also  referred  to  the  Gentile  nation  who  refused  the 
children  of  Israel  passage  through  their  country  when  Moses  led  them  out  of  Egypt — 
that  the  Lord  held  that  crime  against  them;  and  that  when  Israel  was  strong  the 
Lord  commanded  Joshua  to  slay  the  whole  nation,  men,  women,  and  children. 
"  Have  not  these  people  done  worse  than  that  uto  us?  Have  they  not  threatened  to 
murder  our  leaders  and  Prophet?  and  have  they  not  boasted  of  murdering  our  patriarchs 
and  prophets,  Joseph  and  Hyrum?  Now  talk  about  shedding  innocent  blood !"  They 


522  WESTERN  WILDS. 

said  I  was  a  good,  liberal,  free-hearted  man,  but  too  much  of  this  sympathy  would  be 
always  in  the  way  ;  that  every  man  now  had  to  show  his  colors;  that  it  was  not  safe  to 
have  a  Judas  in  camp.  Then  it  was  proposed  that  every  man  express  himself;  that  if 
there  was  a  man  who  would  not  keep  a  close  mouth,  they  wanted  to  know  it  then.  This 
gave  me  to  understand  what  I  might  expect  if  I  continued  to  oppose.  Major  Higbee 
said:  "Brother  Lee  is  right.  Let  him  take  an  expression  of  the  people."  I  knew  I 
dare  not  refuse,  so  I  had  every  man  speak  and  express  himself.'  All  said  they  were 
willing  to  carry  out  the  counsel  of  their  leaders ;  that  the  leaders  had  the  Spirit  of  God, 
and  knew  better  what  was  right  than  they  did. 

The  massacre  is  then  related  in  detail  down  to  the  time  when  the 
wounded  men  in  the  wagons  were  killed,  after  which  the  confession 
continues : 

At  this  moment  I  heard  the  scream  of  a  child.  I  looked  up  and  saw  an  Indian  have 
a  little  boy  by  the  hair  of  his  head,  dragging  him  out  of  the  hind  end  of  the  wagon,  with 
a  knife  in  his  hand,  getting  ready  to  cut  his  throat.  I  sprang  for  the  Indian,  with  my 
revolver  in  hand,  and  shouted  to  the  top  of  my  voice  :  "Arick,  ooma,  cot  too  sooet,"  (stop, 
you  fool.)  The  child  was  terror-stricken.  His  chin  was  bleeding.  I  supposed  it  was 
the  cut  of  a  knife,  but  afterward  learned  that  it  was  done  on .  the  wagon-box  as  the  In- 
dian yanked  the  boy  down  by  the  hair  of  the  head.  I  had  no  sooner  rescued  this  child, 
than  another  Indian  seized  a  little  girl  by  the  hair.  I  rescued  her  as  soon  as  I  could 
speak  ;  I  told  the  Indians  that  they  must  not  hurt  the  children — that  I  would  die  before 
they  should  be  hurt ;  that  we  would  buy  the  children  of  them.  Before  this  time  the 
Indians  had  rushed  up  around  the  wagon  in  quest  of  blood,  and  dispatched  the  two 
runaway  wounded  men. 

*  •:»  ********  *  «- 

I  got  up,  saw  the  children,  and  among  the  others  the  boy  who  was  pulled  by  the  hair 
of  his  head  out  of  the  wagon  by  the  Indian — and  saved  by  me.  That  boy  I  took  home 
and  kept  home  until  Dr.  Forney,  Government  Agent,  came  to  gather  up  the  children 
and  take  them  East.  He  took  the  boy  with  the  others.  The  boy's  name  was  Fancher. 
His  father  was  captain  of  the  train.  He  was  taken  East,  and  adopted  by  a  man  in  Ne- 
braska, named  Richard  Sloan.  He  remained  East  several  years,  and  then  returned  to 
Utah,  and  is  now  a  convict  in  the  Utah  penitentiary,  having  been  convicted  the  past 
year  for  the  crime  of  highway  robbery.  He  is  well  known  by  the  name  of  "Idaho 
Bill,"  but  his  true  name  is  William  Fancher.  His  little  sister  was  also  taken  East,  and 
is  now  the  wife  of  a  man  working  for  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  Company,  near  Green 
River. 

*  *  •*•  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * 

Some  two  weeks  after  the  deed  was  done,  Isaac  C.  Haight  sent  me  to  report  to  Gov- 
ernor Young  in  person.  I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  send  a  written  report.  He  replied 
that  I  could  tell  him  more  satisfactorily  than  he  could  write,  and  if  I  would  stand  up 
and  shoulder  as  much  of  the  responsibility  as  I  could  conveniently,  that  it  would  be  a 
feather  in  my  cap  some  day,  and  that  I  would  get  a  celestial  salvation,  but  the  man 
that  shrunk  from  it  now  would  go  to  hell.  I  went  and  did  as  I  was  commanded. 
Brigham  asked  me  if  Isaac  C.  Haight  had  written  a  letter  to  him.  I  replied,  not  by 
me;  but  he  wished  me  to  report  in  person.  "All  right,"  said  Brigham.  "  Were  you  an 
eye-witness?  "  "  To  the  most  of  it,"  was  my  reply.  Then  I  proceeded  and  gave  him  a 
full  history  of  all,  except  that  of  my  opposition.  That  I  left  out  entirely.  I  told  him 
of  the  killing  of  the  women  and  children,  and  the  betraying  of  the  company;  that,  I 
told  him,  I  was  opposed  to;  but  I  did  not  say  to  him  to  what  extent  I  was  opposed  to  it, 
only  that  I  was  opposed  to  shedding  innocent  blood.  "Why,"  said  he,  "you  differ  from 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILT Yf  523 

Isaac  (Haight),  for  he  said  there  was   not   a  drop  of  innocent  blood   in  the  whole 
company." 

When  I  was  through  he  said  it  was  awful;  that  he  cared  nothing  about  the  men,  but 
the  women  and  children  was  what  troubled  him.  I  said :  "  President  Young,  you  should 
either  release  them  from  their  obligation,  or  sustain  them  when  they  do  what  they  have 
entered  into  the  most  sacred  obligations  to  do."  He  replied:  "I  will  think  over  the 
matter,  and  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer,  and  you  may  come  back  in  the  morning  and  see 
me."  I  did  so.  He  said:  "John,  I  feel  first-rate.  I  asked  the  Lord,  if  it  was  all  right 
for  the  deed  to  be  done,  to  take  away  the  vision  of  the  deed  from  my  mind,  and  the  Lord 
did  so,  and  I  feel  first-rate.  It  is  all  right.  The  only  fear  I  have  is  of  traitors."  He 
told  me  never  to  lisp  it  to  any  mortal  being,  not  even  to  Brother  Heber.  President 
Young  has  always  treated  me  with  the  friendship  of  a  father  since,  and  has  sealed 
several  women  to  me  since,  and  has  made  my  home  his  home  when  in  that  part  of  the 
Territory — until  danger  has  threatened  him.  This  is  a  true  statement,  according  to  my 
best  recollection. 

This  statement  I  have  made  for  publication  after  my  death,  and  have  agreed  with  a 
friend  to  have  the  same  published,  with  many  facts  pertaining  to  other  matters  connected 
with  the  crimes  of  the  Mormon  people  under  the  leadership  of  the  priesthood,  from  a  period 
before  the  butchery  of  Nauvoo,  to  the  present  time,  for  the  benefit  of  my  family,  and  that 
the  world  might  know  the  black  deeds  that  have  marked  the  way  of  the  Saints  from  the 
organization  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints,  to  the  period  when  a 
weak  and  too  pliable  tool  lays  down  his  pen  to  face  the  executioner's  guns  for  deeds 
which  he  is  not  more  guilty  than  others,  who  to-day  are  wearing  the  garments  of  the 
priesthood,  and  living  upon  the  "  tithing "  of  a  deluded  and  priest-ridden  people.  My 
autobiography,  if  published,  will  open  the  eyes  of  the  world  to  the  monstrous  deeds  of 
the  leaders  of  the  Mormon  people,  and  will  also  place  in  the  hands  of  the  attorney  for 
the  Government,  the  particulars  of  some  of  the  most  blood-curdling  crimes  that  have 
been  committed  in  Utah,  which,  if  properly  followed  up,  will  bring  many  down  from 
their  high  places  in  the  Church  to  face  offended  justice  upon  the  gallows.  So  mote 
it  be. 

(Signed)  JOHN  D.  LEE. 

The  autobiography,  of  which  Lee  speaks,  is  for  the  present  withheld, 
for  obvious  reasons.  But  when  the  confession  was  forwarded  to  the 
New  York  Herald  for  publication,  the  proprietor  telegraphed  Brigham, 
asking  if  he  had  any  statement  to  make  in  connection  with  the  publi- 
cation. Brigham  replied  as  follows  : 

ST.  GEORGE,  UTAH,  March  22. 

James  Gordon  Bennetl,  New  York: — Yours  just  received.  If  Lee  has  made  a  statement 
fa  his  confession  implicating  me,  as  charged  in  your  telegraph  of  the  21st  inst.,  it  is  ut- 
terly false.  My  course  of  life  is  too  well  known  by  thousands  of  honorable  men  for 
them  to  believe  for  one  moment  such  accusations. 

(Signed)  BKIGHAM  YOUNG. 

Only  that  and  nothing  more.  And  straightway  all  the  Mormon 
papers  of  Utah,  and  all  of  Brigham's  apologists  in  the  East,  cried  out 
that  the  Prophet  was  completely  exonerated;  that  no  one  would  take 
the  word  of  a  murderer  like  Lee  against  so  good  a  man  as  Brigham. 
How  easily  are  people  deceived,  if  they  ardently  wish  to  be. 


524  WESTERN  WILDS. 

The  last  day  drew  near,  and  United  States  Marshal,  William  Kelson, 
with  an  eye  to  poetical  justice,  selected  Mountain  Meadows  as  the 
scene  of  execution.  Judge  Boreman  did  not  approve  of  this,  thinking 
it  savored  of  revenge  and  spectacular  display;  he  would  have  preferred 
the  execution  should  take  place  at  Beaver,  where  the  court  was  held. 
But  few  officials  and  press  representatives  knew  of  this  selection 
till  after  the  escort  had  left  Beaver.  Several  reporters  were  present. 
As  his  last  hour  drew  near,  Lee  became  very  cheerful  and  communi- 
cative. The  execution  ground  was  about  a  hundred  yards  east  of  the 
monument,  which  is  now  but  a  mass  of  rocks.  Lee  was  attended  by 
Rev.  Mr.  Stokes,  to  whom  he  finally  confessed  that  he  killed  five  of 
the  emigrants  with  his  own  hands.  This  was  his  first  and  last  con- 
fession of  actual  murder.  The  shooting  squad  of  five  men  was  detailed 
from  the  guard  of  soldiers  who  had  escorted  the  party  from  Camp 
Cameron.  They  were  armed  with  needle-guns,  and  stood  no  more 
than  forty  feet  from  the  coffin,  on  which  sat  the  condemned.  At  10:30 
A.  M.,  Marshal  Nelson  read  the  death-warrant,  and  asked  Lee  if  he 
had  any  thing  to  say.  Mr.  Fennemore,  an  artist,  had  meanwhile  ar- 
ranged his  material  for  taking  a  photograph  of  the  scene.  Lee  said : 

"  I.  want  to  speak  to  that  man." 

Fennemore  replied  :  "  In  a  second,  Mr.  Lee." 

Lee  :  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  favor.  I  want  you  to  furnish  my  three 
wives  each  a  copy  of  my  photograph — a  copy  of  the  same  to  Rachel 
A.,  Sarah  C.,  and  Emma  B." 

Fennemore  (in  a  low  tone)  :  "  I  will." 

Marshal  Nelson  (aloud)  :  "  He  says  he  will  do  it,  Mr.  Lee." 

Lee  (in  a  somewhat  pleading  tone) :  "  Please  forward  them — you 
wiUf" 

Lee  then  stood  up  and  said  in  calm  and  measured  tones  : 

I  have  but  little  to  say  this  morning.  Of  course  I  feel  that  I  am  upon  the  brink  of 
eternity,  and  the  solemnities  of  eternity  should  rest  upon  my  mind  at  the  present.  I 
have  made  out,  or  endeavored  to  do  so,  a  manuscript  and  an  abridged  history  of  my 
life.  This  is  to  be  published,  sir.  I  have  given  my  views  and  feelings  with  regard  to 
all  these  things.  I  feel  resigned  to  my  fate.  I  feel  as  calm  as  a  summer  morning.  I 
have  done  nothing  designedly  wrong.  My  conscience  is  clear  before  God  and  man,  and 
I  am  ready  to  meet  my  Redeemer.  This  it  is  that  places  me  on  this  field.  I  am  not  an 
infidel.  I  have  not  denied  God  or  His  mercy.  I  am  a  strong  believer  in  these  things. 
The  most  I  regret  is  parting  with  my  family.  Many  of  them  are  unprotected,  and  will 
be  left  fatherless.  When  I  speak  of  those  little  ones,  they  touch  a  tender  chord  within 
me.  (Here  Lee's  voice  faltered  perceptibly.)  I  have  done  nothing  designedly  wrong  in 
this  affair.  I  used  my  utmost  endeavors  to  save  this  people.  I  would  have  given 
worlds,  were  it  at  my  command,  to  have  avoided  that  calamity.  But  I  could  not.  I  am 
sacrificed  to  satisfy  feelings,  and  I  am  used  to  gratify  parties,  but  I  am  ready  to  die.  I 
have  no  fear.  Death  has  no  terror.  No  particle  of  mercy  have  I  asked  of  the  court  or 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILT Y1 


525 


officials  to  spare  my  life.  I  do  not  fear  death.  I  shall  never  go  to  a  worse  place  than 
the  one  I  am  now  in.  I  have  said  it  to  my  family,  and  I  will  say  it  to-day,  that  the 
Government  of  the  United  States  sacrifices  its  best  friend,  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal, 
but  it  is  true.  I  am  a  true  believer  in  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  do  not  believe 
every  thing  that  is  now  practiced  and  taught  by  Brigham  Young.  I  do  not  agree  with 
him.  I  believe  he  is  leading  the  people  astray;  but  I  believe  in  the  gospel  as  it 
was  taught  in  its  purity  by  Joseph  Smith  in  former  days.  I  have  my  reasons  for  say- 
ing this.  I  used  to  make  this  man's  will  my  pleasure,  and  did  so  for  thirty  years.  See 
how  and  what  I  have  come  to  this  day.  I  have  been  sacrificed  in  a  cowardly  and  das- 
tardly manner. 

There  are  thousands  of  people  in  the  Church,  honorable,  good-hearted,  that  I  cherish 
in  my  heart.  I  regret  to  leave  my  family.  They  are  near  and  dear  to  me.  These  are 
things  to  rouse  my  sympathy.  I  declare  I  did  nothing  wrong  designedly  in  this  unfortu- 
nate affair.  I  did  every  tiling  in  my  power  to  save  all  the  emigrants,  but  I  am  the  one 
that  must  suffer.  Having  said  this,  I  feel  resigned.  I  ask  the  Lord  my  God  to  extend 
his  mercy  to  me,  and  receive  my  spirit.  My  labors  are  done. 


EXECUTION  OF  JOHN  D.  LEE. 


Having  thus  spoken  he  sat  down  on  his  coffin. 

The  minister  offered  a  fervent  prayer.  The  spectators  were  ordered 
to  fall  back.  Marshal  Nelson  gave  command : 

"  Make  ready  !     Aim  !     Fire  !" 

The  five  rifles  cracked  simultaneously,  and  Lee  fell  back  dead, 
without  a  struggle.  Five  balls  had  passed  through  him  in  the  imme- 
diate vicinity  of  the  heart.  Either  alone  would  have  caused  instant 
death.  His  countenance  was  perfectly  placid ;  his  lips  parted  to  some- 
thing very  near  a  smile. 


626  WESTERN  WILDS. 

Thus  died  John  Doyle  Lee,  a  fanatic  and  a  sensualist,  a  devotee 
and  a  murderer,  a  kind  father,  a  pleasant  host,  a  hospitable  gentleman 
and  a  remorseless  bigot.  The  same  qualities  which,  with  proper  edu- 
cation and  surroundings,  would  have  made  him  an  energetic,  active 
and  valuable  citizen  of  a  Christian  community,  in  Mormonism  made 
him  a  polygamist  and  a  murderer.  Doubtless  there  was  a  time  in  his 
early  life  when  the  weight  of  a  hair  either  way  would  have  determined 
the  course  of  his  career — as  the  drop  falling  on  one  side  of  a  Minne- 
sota roof  may  flow  down  to  the  sunny  gulf,  on  the  other  side  to  the 
frozen  ocean.  The  accident  of  an  hour  turned  his  life  into  the  chan- 
nels of  Mormonism ;  thence  his  way  was  steadily  downward,  and  the 
perversion  of  those  forces  which  would  have  made  him  honored  in  Il- 
linois, consigned  him  to  infamous  remembrance  in  Utah.  So  may  all 
who  are  conscious  of  unregulated  passion  look  upon  him  as  the  pious 
bishop  did  upon  the  hardened  convict,  "  There  go  I,  but  for  the 
grace  of  God." 

It  only  remains  to  inquire  into  the  probable,  or  possible,  fate  of  his 
companions  in  crime,  and  the  proof  of  Brigham  Young's  complicity. 
Of  those  indicted,  only  George  Adair  and  Elliott  Wilden  are  in  cus- 
tody, both  minor  characters  in  the  tragedy,  though  other  participants 
testified  on  the  trial.  But  the  really  guilty,  such  as  Isaac  Haight, 
John  M.  Higbee  and  William  C.  Stewart — the  men  who  planned  and 
carried  the  matter  through  exultingly — are  in  hiding  in  the  Indian 
country.  For  a  long  time  they  lived  in  a  mountain  fastness  of  south- 
eastern Utah,  and  Hon.  G.  C.  Bates,  their  attorney,  visited  and  con- 
versed with  them  in  their  chosen  stronghold.  He  gave  me  a  dra- 
matic account  of  his  experience  there  ;  of  his  going  in  at  night  and  re- 
turning the  next  night,  by  a  way  so  devious  that  none  but  Indians  or 
the  most  accomplished  scouts  could  find  it.  But  even  that  place  did 
not  make  them  feel  safe ;  and  since  the  Mormons  extended  their  south- 
ern settlements  into  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  the  murderers  have  re- 
treated there.  The  community  still  shields  them,  but,  as  time  passes, 
there  is  a  growing  number  of  Mormons  who  would  like  to  see  jus- 
tice done.  The  United  States  Government  now  has  one  duty  to  per- 
form: to  offer  a  moderate  reward  for  their  capture,  or  guarantee  the 
expense.  Let  this  be  done,  and  Marshal  "William  Stokes  will  pick 
his  assistants  and  have  those  assassins  in  the  Beaver  jail  within  two 
months. 

Marshal  Stokes,  to  whom  Utah  and  the  cause  of  justice  are  so 
greatly  indebted,  deserves  more  than  a  passing  notice.  A  native  of 
New  York,  but  reared  in  Wisconsin,  he  was  then  thirty-three  years  of 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTYf  527 

age,  in  the  very  prime  of  mental  and  physical  vigor.  He  served  four 
years  in  Company  "  D,"  of  the  Eighth  Wisconsin,  and  was  in  twenty- 
five  battles  and  skirmishes,  including  the  battle  of  Corinth  and  assault 
on  Vicksburg.  With  a  posse  of  but  five  men  he  executed  the  skillful 
movement  ending  in  the  capture  of  Lee ;  and  if  our  somewhat  too 
cautious  Congress  will  but  vote  to  pay  the  expense,  he  will  capture 
the  others. 

Was  Brigham  Young  guilty?  To  me  the  evidence  seems  overwhelm- 
ing that  he  was  accessory  after  the  fact — not  quite  conclusive  that  he 
ordered  the  massacre.  But  there  is  a  fearful  array  of  evidence,  and 
steadily  accumulating,  to  that  effect,  though  much  of  it  is  moral  and 
inferential  rather  than  direct.  Its  nature  may  be  judged  from  one 
fact:  the  longer  a  Gentile  lives  in  Utah  the  more  he  is  convinced  of 
Brigham's  guilt,  for  he  sees  more  and  more  that  no  such  action  would 
have  been  taken  by  those  southern  Mormons  unless  they  had  been 
certain  of  Brigham's  approval.  The  empire  that  man  had  obtained 
over  Utah  in  1857  and  succeeding  years,  has  never  been  exceeded  on 
earth ;  it  is  something  Americans  can  never  hope  to  understand  until 
they  have  lived  years  in  Utah.  As  Prophet,  he  held  the  "  keys  of 
the  kingdom,"  and  all  Mormons  believed  that  none  could  enter  there 
without  his  voucher.  As  Priest ;  he  alone  had  authority  to  "seal"  and 
divorce,  whether  for  time  or  eternity.  As  Seer,  he  literally  directed 
every  movement  of  the  community.  As  Revelator,  they  regarded  his 
words  as  the  very  oracles  of  God.  As  First  President,  he  was  official 
head  of  all  orders  of  the  priesthood.  He  was  then  officially  styled 
"  Prophet,  Priest,  Seer  and  Revelator,  First  President  and  Trustee-in- 
Trust  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints."  In  the 
last  capacity  he  had  control  of  all  the  property  concerns  of  Utah. 
Every  thing  was  done  and  every  body  directed  by  priestly  "  counsel." 
No  move  of  any  importance  was  entered  upon  without  his  consent; 
no  lay  member  of  his  own  motion  ever  ventured  upon  any  new  enter- 
prise. Brigham  must  be  consulted  if  he  would  change  his  town  or 
residence,  his  associations  or  his  business,  go  abroad  or  remain  at 
home,  buy  a  farm  or  take  another  wife.  Nor  is  this  all.  Besides  be- 
ing their  spiritual  head  and  guide,  he  was  military  commander  over 
Dame,  Haight  and  Lee.  If  there  is  any  power  possible  on  this  earth 
which  he  did  not  have,  many  years  search  have  failed  to  show  it.  Is 
it  credible  that,  under  such  circumstances,  such  a  momentous  affair 
could  take  place  without  his  consent?  Scores  of  times  have  I  heard 
Brigham  speak  of  the  power  he  exercised  over  "this  people."  It  had 
been  his  boast  for  thirty  years  that  the  Saints  would  do  nothing  against 


528  WESTERN   WILDS. 

his  wish.     "We  must  judge  him  by  his  own  utterances  and  those  of  his 
nearest  friends. 

But  there  are  direct  evidences.  First :  His  sermon  that  if  emi- 
grants tried  to  cross  the  Territory  he  would  "  turn  the  Indians  loose 
on  them."  Second:  His  admitted  knowledge  of  the  affair  soon  after 
it  occurred,  and  failure  to  denounce  or  seek  to  have  the  guilty  pun- 
ished. Third :  His  complete  silence  thereon  in  his  next  report  as  In- 
dian Agent.  Fourth  :  His  persistent  falsehood  for  fifteen  years  after- 
wards in  denying  that  the  whites  had  any  thing  to  do  with  it.  Fifth  : 
His  continued  attempts  to  deceive  all  who  made  inquiry  into  the  mat- 
ter, and  a  score  of  other  facts  already  mentioned.  Collateral  to  the 
main  issue,  there  are  other  crimes  of  which  Brigham  was  undoubtedly 
guilty.  The  public  files  show  that  the  year  after  the  massacre  he  wrote 
to  Indian  Commissioner  Denver  charging  the  crime  upon  the  In- 
dians— this  in  accordance  with  the  arrangement  made  with  the  mur- 
derers, of  which  Lee  speaks — and  that  he  actually  charged  the  Govern-, 
ment  for  the  material  tq,ken  from  the  murdered  emigrants  and  given 
to  the  Indians!  Here  is  a  clear  case  of  perjury,  proved  by  docu- 
mentary evidence.  And  for  this  also,  had  an  honest  jury  been  found 
in  Utah,  he  would  have  been  indicted.  Nor  is  this  all.  In  1864  a 
member  of  the  Indian  Committee  visited  Utah,  and  to  him  Brigham 
made  complaint  that  the  Mormons  had  not  been  paid  for  their  ex- 
penses in  the  late  Indian  wars.  The  official  gave  as  a  reason  that 
charges  against  them  were  on  file  in  connection  with  Mountain  Mead- 
ows. Then  Brigham  called  high  heaven  to  witness  that  the  Saints  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  massacre — "it  was  all  the  work  of  Indians." 
As  late  as  1869,  the  Deseret  Neirs,  Brigham  Young's  official  organ,  con- 
tained an  article,  written  by  Apostle  George  Q.  Cannon,  later  a  Dele- 
gate in  Congress  from  Utah,  bitterly  denying  that  any  Mormon  was 
engaged.  Thus  the  Mormon  authorities  went  on  year  after  year 
swearing  to  lies  and  publishing  lies  about  Mountain  Meadows,  when, 
according  to  all  the  evidence  on  the  trial,  they  knew  the  facts  then  as 
well  as  we  know  them  now !  What  rational  explanation  can  be 
given  of  such  crookedness,  except  that  they  had  some  sort  of  guilty 
connection  with  the  actual  participants? 

I  have  but  touched  upon  the  mass  of  evidence.  Brigham  Young 
has  many  apologists  in  the  East,  but  among  them  all  I  have  heard  no 
attempt  at  explanation  of  these  things.  There  is  one  man  to  whose 
life-long  friendship  the  Mormons  are  more  indebted  for  the  immunity 
they  enjoy  than  to  any  other  one  agency.  Colonel  (since  General) 
Thomas  L.  Kane,  a  gentleman  of  high  character,  accompa/nied  them 


GUILTY  OR  NOT  GUILTY?  529 

in  their  journey  from  Council  Bluffs  to  Salt  Lake;  was  the  guest  of 
Brigham  Young;  acted  as  their  mediator  in  1858,  and  has  been  their 
apologist  to  the  Government  ever  since.  He  first  saw  them  in  their 
extreme  misery,  after  their  expulsion  from  Nauvoo,  and  his  sympa- 
thies were  powerfully  excited  in  their  behalf.  He  gave  his  views  of 
them  in  a  fascinating  lecture,  delivered  before  the  Historical  Society 
of  Pennsylvania,  March  26,  1850,  and  that  lecture  has  probably  cov- 
ered more  crimes  and  done  more  harm  than  any  ever  delivered  in 
America.  Assuredly,  Colonel  Kane  was  benevolent  and  sympathetic ; 
but  it  is  equally  certain  that  his  sympathy  overbalanced  his  judgment. 
The  value  of  his  testimony  may  be  judged  from  a  few  facts.  He 
gave  his  solemn  assurance  that  the  Saints  were  a  law-abiding  people ; 
that  they  were  rigid  moralists  in  all  that  pertained  to  the  relations  of 
the  sexes ;  that  all  the  charges  made  against  them,  including  polygamy, 
were  false  and  scandalous,  and  made  with  a  view  of  getting  their  prop- 
erty. At  the  very  time  these  words  were  written,  and  when  Colonel 
Kane  was  a  guest  in  his  tent,  Brigham  was  the  husband  of  four  wives! 
I  am  personally  Acquainted  with  dozens  of  men  and  women  who  were 
born  in  polygamy  at  the  very  time  Colonel  Kane  was  with  the  Saints, 
proving  that  polygamy  had  no  existence !  The  Saints  were  denying 
the  practice  then ;  they  now  avow  its  existence  since  1843,  and  laugh 
at  the  Gentiles  for  having  been  deceived.  Between  1843  and  1852 
they  put  on  record  fourteen  sworn  or  printed  denials  of  the  existence 
of  polygamy ;  since  1852  they  have  denied  their  own  denials,  and  now 
claim  that  polygamy  was  an  established  institution  among  them  three 
years  before  they  left  Illinois.  Colonel  Kane  speaks  as  if  it  were 
little  short  of  blasphemy  to  doubt  the  high  character  of  Mormon 
women  ;  and  in  the  postscript  to  the  second  edition  he  insists  that  the 
Mormons,  as  he  knew  them,  had  "a  general  correctness  of  deportment 
and  purity  of  character  above  the  average  of  ordinary  communities." 
And  yet  in  that  same  camp  were  men  having  mother  and  daughters  as 
"wives;"  one  woman  who  had  left  her  husband  in  Boston  to  follow 
Brigham,  and  another  who  had  got  a  divorce  from  Dr.  Seely,  of 
Nauvoo,  to  become  Brigham's  "second!"  Oscar  Young,  oldest  son 
of  Brigham's  third  or  fourth  "  wife,"  was  born  near  the  Missouri 
River  about  the  time  Colonel  Kane  was  reporting  to  the  President 
that  no  polygamy  existed  among  the  Saints ;  and  the  perpetrator  now 
acknowledges  four  murders  committed  near  there,  while  the  Colonel 
was  indorsing  the  law-abiding  Mormons!  A  little  further  on  the 
Colonel  recites  with  amazement  that  gulls  were  unknown  in  Utah,  till 
the  Mormons  needed  them  to  eat  the  crickets  which  were  devouring 


530  WESTERN    WILDS. 

their  crops  !  And  this,  when  every  explorer  for  a  century  past  had 
told  of  the  Salt  Lake  gulls,  which  are  certainly  as  much  indigenous 
to  the  Great  Basin  as  the  blackbird  is  to  Ohio !  There  remains  but 
one  question  in  my  mind :  Could  a  man  of  Colonel  Kane's  acumen 
be  so  grossly  deceived,  or  was  there  some  other  reason? 

But  a  little  later  Colonel  Kane  accidentally  states  a  very  important 
fact.  Having  endeavored  to  show  that  the  Mormons  in  Illinois  were 
sadly  belied  by  their  neighbors,  who  wanted  to  drive  them  away  and 
get  their  property,  he  adds :  "  When  they  left  Nauvoo  all  their  fair- 
weather  friends  forsook  them.  Priests  and  elders,  scribes  and  preach- 
ers, deserted  by  whole  councils  at  a  time ;  each  talented  knave,  of 
whose  craft  they  had  been  victims,  finding  his  own  pretext  for  aban- 
doning them,  without  surrendering  the  money-bag  of  which  he  was 
the  holder."  So  it  appears  there  were  "  talented  knaves "  in  the 
Church  while  it  was  at  Nauvoo ;  there  were  thieves  who  ran  off  with 
"  money-bags,"  and  "  fair-weather  friends "  who  used  the  Mormons. 
And  yet  while  these  people  were  in  the  Church,  stealing  from  Gentiles 
and  laying  it  to  Saints,  and  stealing  from  Saints  and  laying  it  to  Gen- 
tiles, Colonel  Kane  can  find  no  reasqn  for  outside  hostility  to  Xauvoo, 
except  that  the  Gentiles  wanted  their  property.  He  proves  that 
nearly  half  the  Nauvoo  community  was  composed  of  adventurers  from 
all  parts  of  the  country,  "talented  knaves"  who  proved  to  be  thieves, 
and  then  maintains  that  the  Illinois  Gentiles  were  responsible  for  all 
the  troubles  there!  Verily,  benevolence  is  a  grand  sentiment;  but  it 
may  be  overdone. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 


THE   NOBLE   RED   MAN. 

ON  a  bright  Sunday  in  June,  1876,  while  the  nation  was  on  the 
top  wave  of  the  Centennial  enthusiasm  and  opening  of  the  Presi- 
dential campaign,  the  news  went  flashing  over  the  wires  that  General 
George  A.  Custer  and 
all  his  command  lay 
dead  in  a  Montana 
valley,  the  victims  of 
a  Sioux  massacre. 
With  him  had  died 
his  two  brothers,  his 
brother-in-law  and  a 
nephew ;  and  of  all 
that  entered  that  bat- 
tle not  one  white  man 
survived.  For  a  brief 
space  there  was  hope 
that  it  might  be  a 
false  report,  but  soon 
followed  official  pa- 
pers which  confirmed 
every  ghastly  detail 
of  the  first  dispatches. 
For  a  few  days  the 
public  sorrow  over- 
came all  other  consid- 
erations ;  then,  by  nat- 
ural revulsion,  sorrow 
gave  place  to  indignation,  and  that  in  turn  to  a  fierce  demand  for  in- 
vestigation and  a  victim.  The  public  must  have  a  victim  when  there 
has  been  a  misfortune.  Then  ensued  a  performance  which  was  no 
credit  to  us  as  a  nation.  His  opponents  attacked  President  Grant  as 
the  real  cause  of  Glister's  death;  his  friends  foolishly  defended  the 
President  by  criticising  Custer;  the  latter's  friends  in  the  army  sav- 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN. 


532  WESTERN  WILDS. 

agely  attacked  Major  Reno  and  Captain  Benteen  as  being  the  cause  of 
the  General's  misfortunes,  and  thus  the  many-sided  fight  went  on. 
Before  stating  any  facts  bearing  on  this  issue,  a  brief  sketch  of  Gen- 
eral Ouster's  previous  experience  on  the  plains  is  in  order. 

George  Armstrong  Ouster  was  born  at  New  Rumley,  Ohio,  Decem- 
ber 5,  1839,  and  was  consequently  but  thirty-seven  years  old  at  the 
time  of  his  death.  At  ten  years  of  age  he  went  to  live  with  an  older 
sister  in  Monroe,  Michigan,  and  ever  after  considered  that  place  his 
home.  There,  on  the  ninth  of  February,  1864,  he  married  Elizabeth, 
only  daughter  of  Judge  Daniel  S.  Bacon.  He  entered  West  Point  as 
a  cadet  in  1857,  and  graduated  four  years  after — away  down  in  the 
list.  Worse  still,  he  was  court-martialed  for  some  minor  breach  of 
etiquette,  and,  badly  as  officers  were  needed  just  then,  had  some 
trouble  in  getting  located  in  the  army.  But  we  long  ago  learned  that 
rank  at  West  Point  by  no  means  settles  the  officer's  later  standing  in 
the  army.  Soon  after  graduating  he  was  made  Second  Lieutenant,  and 
assigned  to  Company  "G,"  Second  United  States  Cavalry,  and  ar- 
rived just  in  time  to  take  a  little  .part  in  the  Bull  Run  battle  and 
stampede.  A  little  later  he  served  on  the  staff  of  General  Phil. 
Kearney,  and  early  in  the  summer  of  1862  was  made  full  captain  and 
aid-de-camp  of  General  McClellan.  And  this  contributed  not  a  little 
to  some  of  his  troubles  in  after  years,  as  he  was  an  enthusiastic 
"  McClellan  man,"  and  by  no  means  reticent  in  his  views.  Animosities 
were  excited  during  that  controversy  which  were  not  settled  till  long 
afterwards. 

Little  by  little  Custer  fought  his  way  up,  and  the  last  year  of  the 
war  the  country  was  charmed  and  excited  by  the  brilliant  movements 
of  Brigadier-General  George  A.  Custer,  of  the  United  States  Cavalry. 
After  the  Avar  we  almost  lost  sight  of  him.  Except  that  President 
Johnson  took  him,  along  with  a  few  others,  as  one  of  the  attractions 
of  that  starring  tour,  "swinging'  'round  the  circle,"  we  hear  no  more  of 
Custer  till  the  army  was  reorganized  in  1866,  and  he  was  once  more 
a  captain  in  the  United  States  Cavalry,  this  time  on  the  plains.  But 
it  was  a  different  sort  of  army  to  that  with  which  he  had  Avon  his 
early  honors.  Language  fails  to  portray  the  utter  demoralization  of 
our  regular  army  from  1865  to  1869  or  '70.  All  the  really  valuable 
survivors  of  the  volunteer  army  had  returned  to  civil  life;  only  the 
malingerers,  the  bounty-jumpers,  the  draft-sneaks  and  worthless  re- 
mained. These,  with  the  scum  of  the  cities  and  frontier  settlements, 
constituted  more  than  half  of  the  rank  and  file  on  the  plains.  The  of- 
ficers, too,  had  been  somewhat  affected  by  the  great  revolution.  The 


THE  NOBLE  RED   MAN. 


533 


old  West  Pointers  were  dead,  or  retired  on  half  pay,  or  had  grown  to 
such  rank  in  the  volunteer  army  that  they  could  not  bear  to  drop  back 
to  their  old  position  in  the  regular  service.  The  officers  consisted  of 
new  men  from  West  Point;  of  men  who  had  been  appointed  from 
civil  life  or  from  the  volunteer  army,  in  most  instances  to  oblige  some 
politician ;  and  a  few  men  like  Custer,  to  whom  military  life  was  both 
a  pleasure  and  a  legitimate  business.  Desertion  was  so  common 
among  the  private  soldiers  that  it  entailed  no  disgrace  anywhere  in 
the  West.  Hundreds  enlisted  sim- 
ply to  get  transportation  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  then  de- 
serted. When  our  wagon-train  was 
on  its  way  to  Salt  Lake  in  1868  a 
deserter  traveled  with  us  two  days, 
dressed  in  his  military  clothing,  and 
without  the  slightest  attempt  at 
concealment.  In  this  wretched 
state  of  the  service  in  the  West, 
Custer  was  promoted  to  the  rank  of 
Lieutenant-Colonel,  and  put  in  com- 
mand of  the  Seventh  United  States 
Cavalry. 

It  was  but  nominally  a  cavalry 
regiment.  The  men  were  there,  and  the  horses,  with  guns,  equip- 
ments, an  organization  and  a  name ;  but  as  a  cavalry  regiment  he  had 
to  make  it,  and  he  did  it  so  well  that  it  soon  became  the  reliable  regi- 
ment of  the  frontier.  The  new  Colonel's  career,  for  some  time  to 
come,  was  among  the  hostile  Indians  of  Western  and  South-western 
Kansas — then  the  worst  section  of  the  Far  West  for  Indian  troubles. 
The  tourist  who  glides  rapidly  and  with  such  keen  enjoyment  through 
this  region,  by  way  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  or  Atchison,  Topeka  <fe 
Santa  Fe  Road,  can  scarcely  conceive  that  but  a  few  years  have 
elapsed  since  it  contained  thousands  of  murderous  savages;  for  it  is  a 
noteworthy  fact  that  nothing  so  soon  moderates  the  danger  of  Indian 
attacks  as  a  railroad.  It  seems  that,  even  if  no  fighting  is  done,  the 
mere  presence  of  the  road,  with  daily  passage  of  trains,  either  drives 
the  Indians  away  or  renders  them  harmless.  But  in  the  early  days  the 
routes  to  the  Colorado  mines  were  raided  at  regular  intervals.  One 
year  there  would  be  almost  perfect  peace,  the  next  a  bloody  Indian  war. 
It  seems  to  have  been  the  policy  of  the  Indians  to  behave  well  long 
enough  to  throw  emigrants  off  their  guard,  then  swoop  down  and  mur 


SCENE  OF  SIOUX  WAR  OF  1876. 


534 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


der  and  plunder  with  impunity.  The  region  between  the  Smoky  Hill 
and  the  Republican  was  particularly  noted  for  bloody  encounters.  It 
was  raided  in  turn  by  Sioux,  Cheyennes  and  Arapahoes,  and  often  by  all 
three  in  concert.  Every  ravine  and  knoll  on  the  route  has  its  own 
local  legend — the  details,  a  blending  of  the  ludicrous  and  horrible. 

Tradition  relates 
that  two  bold  set- 
tlers started  for 
the  mines  in  a  time 
of  profound  peace, 
just  after  the  In- 
dians had  con- 
cluded a  most  sol- 
emn treaty  and 
shaken  hands  over 
their  promise  to 
live  in  eternal 
peace  with  the 
whites ;  the  set- 
tlers, in  Western 
mirth  fulness, 

painting;  on  their 
"  BUSTED."  * 

white    wagon- 

cover  the  words,  "  Pike's  Peak  or  Bust."  A  scouting  party  sent  out 
from  some  post  came  upon  them  on  the  Upper  Republican  just  in  time 
to  see  the  savages  vanishing  in  the  distance.  The  oxen  lay  dead  in 
the  yoke.  Beside  the  wagon  were  the  corpses  of  the  two  settlers, 
transfixed  with  arrows.  They  had  "  busted." 

In  1864  the  savages  broke  out  worse  than  ever,  carrying  off  several 
women  captive  from  the  settlements  in  Kansas.  In  1865  there  was 
a  precarious  peace;  but  in  1866  and  '67  the  Indians  raided  every  part 
of  the  stage  road.  Meanwhile  the  noted  "Chivington  massacre"  had 
occurred,  and  General  P.  E.  Connor  had,  by  extraordinary  exertions, 
killed  some  Montana  Indians;  both  events  were  seized  upon  by  East- 
ern "humanitarians,"  and  for  awhile  they  succeeded  in  completely 
paralyzing  all  portions  of  our  army.  And  here  it  may  be  observed 
that  our  peculiar,  tortuous,  uneconomical  and  most  unsatisfactory 
Indian  policy,  is  the  result  of  a  certain  conflict  of  forces  highly  liable 
to  occur  in  a  free  republic.  There  is,  first,  a  small  but  eminently 
respectable  and  powerful  party  which  is  opposed  to  fighting  the 
Indian  at  all,  and  think  he  might  be  fed  and  soothed  into  keeping  the 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  535 

peace;  and  that,  at  any  rate,  it  would  be  cheaper  to  feed  all  the 
Indians  to  repletion  than  to  fight  them.  And  as  to  this  last  point  they 
are  emphatically  correct.  There  is,  next,  a  considerably  larger  num- 
ber, mostly  on  the  frontiers,  who  believe  in  a  war  of  extermination, 
but  they  have  little  or  no  political  influence.  There  are  also  .the 
traders  and  agents,  some  honest  and  some  otherwise,  whose  interests 
are  involved;  and  the  sensible  middle  class,  who  believe  in  keeping 
treaties  with  the  Indians,  and  thrashing  them  if  they  break  treaties. 
Of  course  it  sometimes  happens  that  one  of  these  parties  is  ahead,  and 
then  another.  As  a  result  our  policy  is  strangely  crooked,  inconsist- 
ent and  expensive.  The  Indian  no  sooner  gets  accustomed  to  one 
policy  than  another  is  adopted;  he  has  scarcely  learned  to  trust  one 
officer  till  another  is  in  his  place,  who  takes  a  malicious  pleasure, 
apparently,  in  undoing  all  that  the  former  has  done.  This  uncertainty 
entails  frightful  expense  both  in  treasure  and  life.  But  it  is  a  diffi- 
culty inseparable,  apparently,  from  our  form  of  government. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  trace  the  causes  which  led  to  Hancock's  cam- 
paign against  the  Indians  in  1867.  It  was  a  formidable  affair  on 
paper,  but  accomplished  nothing.  Our  whole  force  consisted  of  eight 
troops  of  cavalry,  seven  companies  of  infantry  and  one  battery  of 
artillery,  the  whole  numbering  1,400  men.  General  Hancock,  with 
seven  companies  of  infantry,  four  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry,  and  all  the 
artillery,  marched  from  Fort  Riley  to  Fort  Harper,  and  there  was 
joined  by  two  more  troops  of  cavalry.  Thence  they  marched  south- 
west to  Fort  Lamed,  near  the  Arkansas.  The  hostile  Indians,  con- 
sisting of  Cheyennes  and  Sioux,  had  appointed  a  council  near  by ;  but 
all  sorts  of  difficulties  seemed  to  arise  to  prevent  their  comi-ng  up  to 
time.  First,  there  was  a  heavy  snow,  although  it  was  the  second 
week  in  April ;  and  the  runners  reported  that  the  bands  could  not 
come.  Then  word  came  that  they  had  started,  but  found  it  necessary 
to  halt  and  kill  some  buffalo;  and  again  that  they  had  once  come  in 
sight,  but  were  afraid  on  account  of  so  many  soldiers  being  present. 
Then  General  Hancock  proceeded  up  the  stream  to  hunt  the  Indian 
camp,  and  was  met  by  an  imposing  band  of  warriors.  Another  par- 
ley ensued:  midway  between  the  hostile  forces  Generals  Hancock, 
A.  J.  Smith  and  others  met  Roman  Ncse,  Bull  Bear,  White  Horse, 
Gray  Beard  and  Medicine  Wolf,  on  the  part  of  the  Cheyennes,  and 
Pawnee  Killer,  Bad  Wound,  Tall-Bear-that-walks-under-Ground, 
Left  Hand,  Little  Bull  and  Little  'Bear,  on  the  part  of  the  Sioux. 
There  was  no  fighting,  but  after  a  few  days  more  of  excuses,  the 
mounted  Indians  suddenly  departed.  Then  it  was  discovered  that  the 


536 


WESTERN   WILDS. 


whole  proceeding  was  but  a  well-played  ruse  to  enable  the  Indians  to 
get  their  women  and  children  to  a  place  of  safety,  and  leave  the  war- 
riors free  for  contingencies.  The  accomplished  commanders  of  the 
American  army  had  been  tricked  by  a  lot  of  dirty  savages.  Custer 
in  the  lead,  pushed  on  with  all  possible  speed  after  the  Indians,  but  in 
vain.  They  had  struck  the  stage  stations  on  the  Smoky  Hill  route, 
and  murdered  several  persons;  and  the  war  was  begun.  It  ended 
decidedly  to  the  advantage  of  the  Indians. 


OUSTER'S  FIRST  INDIAN  FIGHT. 


Ouster's  first  experience  in  actual  Indian  fighting  was  while  escort- 
ing a  wagon-train  loaded  with  supplies  from  Fort  Ellis.  The  Indians 
had  selected  for  the  fight  a  piece  of  ground  well  cut  up  with  gullies — 
an  admirable  system  of  "covered  ways" — by  which  they  hoped  to  get 
close  up  to  the  wagons  without  being  discovered,  and  then  make  a 
charge.  But  the  watchful  eye  of  a  scout  discovered  their  plan,  and 
brought  on  the  conflict  on  ground  more  favorable  to  the  whites.  The 
train  was  simultaneously  attacked  on  all  sides  by  six  or  seven  hundred 
well-mounted  Indians,  outnumbering  Ouster's  party  twelve  to  one. 
The  savages  attacked  in  the  manner  known  as  "circling" — that  is, 
riding  round  and  round  the  whites,  hanging  on  the  opposite  side  of 
their  horses  so  as  to  be  shielded,  and  firing  over  the  animal's  back 
and  under  his  breast.  The  scout  Comstock  had  predicted  a  long  and 
obstinate  battle :  "  Six  hundred  red  devils  ain't  a  goin'  to  let  fifty  men 
stop  them  from  getting  the  sugar  and  coffee  that's  in  these  wagons." 
And  they  did  not  yield  the  prize  as  long  as  there  was  hopo.  The 
•ioldiers  were  located  around  the  wagons  in  skirmish  order.  The 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN. 

Indians  encircled  them  in  a  much  larger  ring  ;  but  though  the  firing 
continued  for  hours,  only  a  few  Indians  were  hit,  so  difficult  was  it  to 
take  aim  at  the  swiftly  flying  horse  or  rider.  All  this  time  the  train 
moved  slowly  on  over  the  comparatively  level  prairie,  the  teamsters 
shivering  with  terror,  and  scarcely  needing  the  command  to  "  keep 
closed  up— one  teaih's  head  right  against  the  next  wagon."  This  fight 
lasted  three  hours,  and  had  the  Indians  maintained  it  much  longer, 
the  soldiers  must  have  run  out  of  ammunition.  But  the  savage  scouts, 
posted  all  around  on  the  highest  points,  gave  warning  that  something 
was  wrong ;  and  soon  the  whole  band  ceased  firing  and  galloped  off. 
Five  of  them  had  been  killed  and  several  wounded.  The  cause  of 
their  sudden  retreat  proved  to  be  Colonel  West's  cavalry  command, 
which  soon  arrived. 

Ouster's  next  anxiety  was  for  Lieutenant  Kidder  and  his  party  of 
eleven  men,  who  were  known  to  be  moving  across  from  the  Republi- 
can to  Fort  Wallace,  through  a  country  now  swarming  with  hostile 
Indians.  Soon  after  getting  the  supply  train  into  camp,  Comstock, 
the  scout,  was  appealed  to  for  his  opinion  as  to  Kidder's  chances.  It 
was  far  from  encouraging.  But  Comstock's  reply  to  the  officers  con- 
tains some  hints  worth  recording.  Said  he  :  "Well,  gentlemen,  there's 
several  things  a  man  must  know  to  give  an  opinion.  No  man  need  tell 
me  any  pints  about  Injuns.  If  I  know  any  thing,  it's  Injuns.  I  know 
jest  how  they'll  do  any  thing,  and  when  they'll  take  to  do  it ;  but 
that  don't  settle  the  question.  Ef  I  knowed  this  young  lootenint,  if  I 
knowed  what  sort  of  a  man  he  is,  I  could  tell  you  might}  nigh  to  a 
sartainty  all  you  want  to  know;  for,  you  see,  Injun  huntin'  And  Injun 
fightin'  is  a  trade  all  by  itself;  and  like  any  other  bizness,  a  man  has 
to  know  what  he's  about,  or  ef  he  don't,  he  can't  make  a  livin'  at  it. 
I  have  lots  o'  confidence  in  the  fightin'  sense  o'  Red  Bead,  the  Sioux 
chief,  who  is  guidin'  the  lootenint,  and  ef  that  Injun  can  have  his 
own  way,  there  is  a  fair  show  for  his  guidin'  'em  through  all  right; 
but  there  lays  the  difficulty.  Is  this  lootenint  the  kind  of  a  man 
that  is  willin'  to  take  advice,  even  if  it  does  come  from  an  Injun?  My 
experience  with  you  army  folks  has  allays  been  that  the  youngsters 
among  ye  think  they  know  the  most ;  and  this  is  'specially  true  ef 
they've  jist  come  from  West  Pint.  Ef  one  o'  'em  young  fellers 
knowed  half  as  much  as  they  bleeve  they  do,  you  couldn't  tell  'em 
nothin'.  As  to  rale  book  larnin',  why  I  spose  they've  got  it  all,  but 
the  fact  of  the  matter  is  they  couldn't  tell  the  difference  'twixt  the 
trail  of  a  war  party  and  one  made  by  a  huntin'  party  to'  save  their 
necks.  Half  uv  'em  when  they  first  cum  here  can't  tell  a  squav 


538  WESTERN  WILDS. 

from  a  buck,  because  they  both  ride  straddle ;  but  they  soon  larn.  But 
that's  neither  here  nor  thar.  I'm  told  that  this  lootenint  we're  talkin' 
about  is  a  new-comer,  and  that  this  is  his  first  scout.  Ef  that  be  the 
case,  it  puts  a  mighty  unsartain  look  on  the  whole  thing ;  and  'twixt 
you  and  me,  gentlejnen,  he'll  be  mighty  lucky  ef  he  gets  through  all 
right.  To-morrow  we'll  strike  the  Wallace  trail,  and  I  can  mighty 
soon  tell  whether  he's  gone  that  way." 

Xoxt  day  the  relief  party,  led  by  Custer,  came  on  Lieutenant 
K.idder's  trail,  and  after  a  brief  examination  Comstock  pronounced : 
"The  trail  shows  that  twelve' American  horses,  shod  all  around,  have 
passed  at  a  walk;  and  when  they  went  by  this  pint  they  war  all 
right,  because  their  horses  are  a  movin'  along  easy,  and  no  pony 
tracks  behind  'em,  as  would  be  ef  the  Injuns  had  an  eye  on  'em.  It 
would  be  astonishin'  for  that  lootenint  and  his  layout  to  git  into  the 
fort  without  a  skrimmage.  He  may,  but  ef  he  does,  it'll  be  a  scratch 
ef  ever  there  was  one;  and  I'll  lose  my  confidence  in  Injuns." 

Custer  ordered  the  command  to  hurry  up,  and,  following  the  trail, 
they  came,  in  a  few  hours,  upon  two  dead  horses  with  the  cavalry 
brand,  but  stripped  of  all  accouterments.  A  little  farther,  and  they 
saw  that  the  American  horses  had  been  going  at  full  speed,  while  all 
around  Comstock  pointed  out  the  minute  but  abundant  evidences  that 
the  Indians  had  fought  them  from  all  sides,  the  pony  tracks  being 
numerous.  A  little  farther,  and  they  entered  the  tall  grass  and 
thickets  along  Beaver  Creek,  and  there  saw  several  buzzards  floating 
lazily  in  the  air,  while  the  trail  was  sprinkled  with  exploded  cartridges 
and  other  debris.  That  told  the  tale.  Nor  were  they  long  in  finding 
the  dead.  The  sight  made  the  blood  even  of  these  brave  men  curdle. 
Lieutenant  Kidder  and  his  companions  lay  near  together,  stripped  of 
every  article  of  clothing,  and  so  brutally  hacked  and  mangled  that  all 
separate  recognition  Avas  impossible.  Every  skull  had  been  broken, 
every  head  scalped ;  the  bodies  were  mutilated  in  an  obscene  and  in- 
describable manner,  and  some  lay  amid  ashes,  indicating  that  they  had 
been  roasted  to  death.  The  scalp  of  Red  Bead,  the  friendly  Sioux,  lay 
by  his  body,  as  it  is  contrary  to  their  rules  to  carry  away  the  scalp  of 
one  of  their  own  tribe ;  nor  is  it  permitted  among  most  Indians  to 
keep  such  a  scalp  or  exhibit  it.  The  exact  manner  of  their  death  can 
not  be  known,  but  all  the  surroundings  showed  that  they  fought  long 
and  well.  Caster's  command  buried  them  on  the  spot  where  found, 
whence  the  father  of  Lieutenant  Kidder  removed  his  remains  the  next 
winter. 

Custer  marched  on  to  Fort  Wallace  with  all  possible  speed,  but 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  539 

troubles  multiplied.  The  soldiers  had  begun  to  desert.  Forty  men 
took  "French  leave"  in  one  night!  The  next  day  thirteen  men 
deserted  in  broad  day,  in  full  view  of  the  command,  seven  mounted 
and  six  on  foot.  After  a  desperate  run  the  latter  were  captured,  two 
slightly  and  one  mortally  wounded.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  they  were 
then  in  a  region  where  the  deserters  apprehended  no  danger  from 
Indians.  Two  men  were  killed  by  the  Indians  after  all  danger  was 
tli ought  to  be  past.  From  Fort  Wallace  the  command  marched  east- 
ward to  Fort  Hayes.  The  war  was  over,  and  Custer  applied  for  and 
obtained  leave  to  visit,  by  rail,  Fort  Riley,  where  his  family  was  then 
located ;  and  for  this,  and  other  matters  connected  with  that  campaign, 
Custer  was  court-martialed!  This  proceeding  appears  to  have  been 
purely  malicious,  prompted  by  the  dislike  of  some  inferior  officers  over 
whom  Custer  had  exercised  pretty  severe  discipline.  The  charges 
were  drawn  by  one  whom  he  had  severely  reprimanded  for  drunken- 
ness. He  had  left  Fort  Wallace  without  orders,  because,  under  the 
circumstances,  he  thought  proper  to  report  to  his  commander  in 
person.  To  this  they  added  the  fact  that^Jie  went  on  to  Riley  to 
visit  his  family,  and  thus  constructed  a  charge  that  he  had  abandoned 
his  post  for  his  private  convenience !  Mean  as  this  attack  was,  it  was 
successful.  Custer  was  suspended  from  rank  and  pay  for  one  year! 

Meanwhile  another  summer  campaign  was  undertaken  against  the 
hostile  Indians,  with  equally  barren  results.  General  Sully  marched, 
in  1868,  against  the  combined  Cheyennes,  Kioways,  and  Arapahoes, 
whom  he  struck  near  the  present  Camp  Supply.  If  this  was  a  "  drawn 
battle,"  that  is  the  best  that  can  be  said  of  it.  Sully  retired,  badly 
crippled,  and  made  no  further  attempts.  At  the  same  time  General 
"  Sandy  "  Forsythe,  Avith  a  company  of  scouts  and  plainsmen  enlisted 
for  the  purpose,  was  hunting  for  the  hostile  Sioux  on  the  northern 
affluents  of  the  Republican.  He  found  them.  They  also  found  him. 
Of  his  total  force  of  fifty-one  men,  six  were  killed  and  twenty 
wounded ;  all  their  horses  were  captured,  and  the  command  was  only 
saved  from  annihilation  by  the  arrival  of  reinforcements.  The  Noble 
Red  Man  evidently  understood  his  business  better  than  the  Generals 
opposed  to  him.  The  people  of  Colorado  grew  sarcastic.  Western 
people  often  do  when  mail  and  supplies  are  cut  off  for  weeks  at  a  time. 
It  appeared  that  the  mountain  territories  were  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
isolated  from  the  rest  of  the  country.  California  Joe,  a  scout  who  had 
been  with  several  of  the  commanders,  thus  gave  in  his  experience : 

"  I've  been  with  'em  when  they  started  out  after  the  Injuns  on 
wheels — in  an  ambulance — as  if  they  war  goin'  to  a  town  funeral 


540  WESTERN   WILDS. 

in  the  States,  and  they  stood  about  as  much  chance  o'  ketchin'  the 
Injuns  as  a  six-mule  train  would  of  ketchin'  a  pack  o'  coyotes.  That 
sort  o'  work  is  only  fun  for  the  Injuns;  they  don't  want  any  thing 
better.  Ye  ought  to  seen  how  they  peppered  it  to  us,  and  we  doin' 
nothing  all  the  time.  Some  war  afraid  the  mules  war  a  goin'  to  stam- 
pede and  run  off  with  all  our  grub,  but  that  war  onpossible ;  for, 
besides  the  big  loads  of  corn  and  bacon,  thar  war  from  eight  to  a 
dozen  infantry  men  piled  into  every  wagon.  Ye'd  ought  to  heard  the 
quartermaster  in  charge  o'  the  train  tryin'  to  drive  the  men  outen  the 
wagons  and  git  them  into  the  fight.  He  was  an  Irishman,  and  he  sez 
to  'em:  'Git  out  of  thim  waggins.  Yez  'ill -hev  me  tried  for  disoba- 
dience  ov  orders  for  marchin'  tin  men  in  a  waggin  whin  I've  orders 
but  for  eight.' " 

But  the  rude  common  sense  of  General  Sheridan,  soon  after  his 
arrival  on  the  plains,  put  an  end  to  summer  campaigning.  He  and 
Sherman  united  in  asking  for  the  restoration  of  Custer;  and,  on  the 
12th  of  November,  1868,  that  officer,  at  the  head  of  his  command 
again,  started  out  on  his  famous  Washita  campaign.  Soon  after  the 
departure  from  Fort  Dodge,  on  the  Arkansas,  the  command  was  over- 
taken by  a  violent  snow-storm ;  but  this  the  commander  thought  all 
the  more  favorable  to  his  plans.  General  Sheridan  could  only  point 
out  to  Custer  the  neighborhood  of  the  hostiles'  camp,  and  leave  all 
details  to  his  judgment.  With  four  hundred  wagons  and  a  guard 
of  infantry  for  them,  and  the  Seventh  Cavalry  in  fighting  order,  he 
pressed  rapidly  southward  to  the  edge  of  the  Indian  country,  where  a 
camp  was  established  for  the  wagons,  as  a  base  of  supplies,  and  the 
cavalry  pressed  on.  California  Joe  and  other  scouts  accompanied  the 
expedition,  besides  a  small  detachment  of  Osage  Indians,  headed  by 
Little  Beaver  and  Hard  Rope,  who  did  excellent  service.  After  a 
terrible  winter  march,  the  command,  800  strong,  arrived  at  the  bluff 
of  the  Washita  at  midnight,  and  saw  below  them,  in  the  moonlight, 
the  hostile  camp.  It  was  evident,  at  a  glance,  that  the  Indians  trusted 
implicitly  in  the  old  army  habit  of  fighting  them  only  in  summer. 
They  had  no  scouts  out,  and  were  buried  in  repose.  The  command 
was  divided  into  four  nearly  equal  detachments ;  and,  by  making  wide 
detours,  the  Indian  camp  was  completely  surrounded  before  daylight. 
The  night  was  terribly  cold,  but  no  fire  could  be  lighted,  and  the 
suffering  was  intense.  As  Custer  stood  upon  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and 
peered  through  the  darkness  into  the  camp,  he  distinctly  heard  the 
cry  of  an  Indian  baby,  borne  through  the  cold,  still  air,  and  reflected 
with  pain  that,  under  the  circumstances,  there  was  so  much  probability 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN. 


541 


that  the  troopers'  bullets  would  make  no  distinction  of  age  or  sex. 
Soon  after  daylight  the  attack  was  made.  Although  taken  by  sur- 
prise, the  Indians  fought  desperately,  but  were  utterly  routed.  It 
practically  annihilated  Black  Kettle's  band  of  Cheyennes.  A  hun- 
dred and  three  warriors  were  killed,  fifty-three  squaws  and  children 
captured,  eight  hundred  and  seventy-five  ponies  taken,  and  a  vast 
amount  of  other  property.  Of  the  force,  two  officers  and  nineteen 
men  were  killed,  three  officers  and  eleven  men  wounded.  In  the  very 


RUDE  SURGERY  OF  THE  PLAINS. 


t  'our  of  victory  Custer  discovered  that  this  was  but  one  of  a  long  line 
.-'  villages  extending  down    the  Washita;  but   he  had  struck  such 
terror  that  the  others  did  not  gather  force  sufficient  to  attack,  and  he 
returned  to  camp  in  safety. 

And  here  it  may  be  noted  that  in  plains'  travel  and  fighting,  there 
is  no  difficulty  so  great  as  dealing  with  the  wounded.  With  all  the 
appliances  furnished  our  army  surgeons,  there  must  still  be  many 
deficiencies;  and,  with  the  ordinary  plainsman,  a  bad  wound  is  either 


542  WESTERN  WILDS. 

certain  death  or  a  long  and  terrible  struggle,  in  which  nothing  saves 
the  man  but  an  iron  constitution.  In  the  old  days  a  regular  back- 
woods' science  grew  up  among  trappers  and  voyageurs;  they  treated 
gunshot  wounds  and  broken  bones,  extracted  bullets  and  arrows,  or 
amputated  shattered  limbs  in  a  way  that  would  have  amazed  the 
faculty,  but  was  singularly  successful.  The  camp-saw  and  a  well 
sharpened  Jbowie-knife  were  their  surgical  instruments;  their  cauteries, 
hot  irons;  and  their  tourniquets,  a  handkerchief  twisted  upon  the 
limb  with  a  stick  run  through  the  knot  and  turned  to  press  upon  the 
artery.  Arrows  were  often  drawn  through  the  limb,  the  feathers 
having  been  cut  off;  and  bullets  flirted  out  of  an  incision  quickly 
made  with  a  sharp  razor.  In  winter  the  wounded  limb  was  almost 
frozen  by  snow  or  ice  applied  before  the  amputation ;  in  summer  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  suffer  it  through.  An  old  voyageur,  with 
but  one  arm,  gave  me  an  account  of  his  losing  the  other,  which  made 
my  "each  particular  hair  to  stand  on  end."  The  arm  was  completely 
shattered  below  ,the  elbow;  it  was  amputation  or  death,  and  the  party 
was  a  thousand  miles  from  any  surgeon.  But  with  knife,  saw,  and 
red-hot  iron  the  job  Avas  skillfully  done;  he  survived  such  rude  surgery 
without  a  shock  to  his  fine  constitution. 

After  a  brief  rest  Custer  was  again  sent  to  the  Washita,  where  he 
alternately  negotiated  with  and  threatened  the  savages  until  he  had 
recovered  some  captives  they  held,  and  located  the  Indians  near  the 
forts.  And  here  originated  the  difficulty  between  him  and  General 
W.  B.  Hazen,  then  in  charge  of  the  southern  Indians — Custer  main- 
taining that  Satanta  and  Lone  Wolfs  bauds  of  Kioways  had  been  in 
the  fight  against  him,  Hazen  denying  it.  It  was  six  years  before  the 
matter  was  settled,  Hazen  producing  unquestionable  evidence  that  he 
was  right.  We  find  evidences,  from  time  to  time,  that  Custer  was 
somewhat  hasty  in  his  judgments,  and  very  impulsive  in  giving  ut- 
terance to  them — in  short,  that  he  had  some  of  the  faults  as  well  as  all 
the  virtues  of  a  dashing,  impetuous  man. 

For  two  years  there  was  peace  on  the  plains;  but  in  the  spring  of 
1873  the  first  Yellowstone  expedition  went  out.  From  Yankton  the 
Seventh  Cavalry,  with  Custer  in  command,  marched  all  the  way  to 
Fort  Hice,  six  hundred  miles,  Mrs.  Custer  and  other  ladies  accom- 
panying the  column  on  horseback.  There  the  ladies  halted,  but  it 
was  not  till  July  that  the  entire  expedition  started — cavalry,  infantry, 
artillery  and  scouts,  numbering  seventeen  hundred  men — all  under 
command  of  Major-General  D.  S.  Stanley.  The  main  object  was  to 
explore  the  Country,  and  open  a  way  for  the  surveyors  of  the  Northern 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  543 

Pacific  Railroad.  Ouster,  as  usual,  was  put  in  the  lead,  and  soon  after 
reaching  the  Yellowstone  had  several  skirmishes  with  the  Indians, 
who  were  desperately  resolved  against  the  passage  of  a  railroad 
through  the  country.  If  they  could  only  have  looked  forward  over 
the  next  year  of  the  financial  world,  they  might  have  been  spared  all 
anxiety  on  that  point.  During  this  march  the  sutler  and  veterinary 
surgeon  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry  were  murdered  by  a  Sioux  called 
Rain-in-the-Face ;  and  out  of  that  matter  grew  the  latter's  hostility  to 
Custer,  and  perhaps  the  latter's  tragic  death  three  years  after. 

Early  in  1874  began  the  memorable  Black  Hills  expedition,  an  un- 
dertaking that  began  in  the  grossest  injustice  and  ended  in  wholesale 
murder.  From  the  first  discovery  in  California,  rumors  had  con- 
stantly prevailed  of  great  gold  placers  in  the  Black  Hills,  but  the  re- 
gion was  a  mystery.  The  Warren  Expedition,  in  1857,  had  gone 
around  the  whole  district,  but  the  Sioux  emphatically  prohibited  them 
from  entering  it,  stating  that  it  was  sacred  ground.  Other  expeditions 
proved  that  the  region  was  a  great  oval,  about  a  hundred  by  sixty 
miles  in  extent,  cut  up  by  numerous  low  mountain  ranges  covered 
with  timber ;  that  it  possessed,  as  do  all  such  mountainous  regions,  a 
more  rainy  climate  than  the  plains,  and  scores  of  little  valleys  of 
great  fertility.  It  is  obvious,  from  the  lay  of  the  country,  that  the  re- 
gion can  not  contain  any  great  area  of  agricultural  land,  but  quite 
probable  that  it  abounds  in  good  mountain  pastures  and  timbered 
hills.  The  tenacity  with  which  the  Sioux  clung  to  it  only  the  more 
convinced  the  Westerners  that  it  contained  gold  by  millions,  and 
many  were  the  exciting  stories  told.  The  treaty  of  1868  confirmed  it 
to  Red  Cloud  and  other  chiefs  in  person  in  Washington,  and 
the  Black  Hills  were  declared  inviolable — a  section  of  the  Indian 
reservation  never  to  be  trespassed  upon  by  white  men.  The  Custer 
expedition  of  1874  was  undertaken  in  direct  violation  of  that  treaty, 
and  upon  the  half-avowed  principle  that  treaties  were  not  to  be  kept 
with  Indians  if  whites  needed  the  country  in  question.  Consistent 
with  this  ill-faith  the  expedition  was  made  the  occasion  of  ridiculous 
exaggeration,  not  to  say  downright  falsehood.  Correspondents  were 
sent  along  with  descriptive  powers  suited  to  an  earthly  Eden,  and 
they  described  one ;  explorers  went  to  find  gold  by  millions,  and  they 
found  it.  The  country  needed  a  sensation,  and  the  Government  took 
the  contract  of  supplying  it.  When  the  expedition  had  returned,  and 
the  brilliant  correspondents  had  made  their  report,  General  Hazen  un- 
dertook to  moderate  popular  enthusiasm  by  portraying  the  high  plains 
as  they  generally  are ;  but  the  public  rejected  him,  and  found  in  his 


544  WESTERN  WILDS. 

testimony  only  another  evidence  of  his  animosity  to  General  Custer. 
The  general  result  was,  settlement  of  the  Black  Hills  before  the  In- 
dian title  was  extinguished,  and  another  expensive  and  fruitless  In- 
dian war. 

The  next  year  Rain-in-the-Face,  a  noted  brave  of  the  Uncpapa 
Sioux,  was  arrested  for  the  murder  of  Dr.  Honzinger  and  Mr. 
Baliran,  of  the  Yellowstone  Expedition  of  1873.  He  was  brought 
before  Custer,  thoroughly  examined,  and  sentenced  to  death,  but  man- 
aged to  escape,  joined  the  hostile  band  of  Sitting  Bull,  and  sent  word 
that  he  was  prepared  to  take  revenge  for  his  imprisonment.  There  is 
evidence,  though  not  quite  conclusive,  that  this  Indian  gave  Custer 
the  death-blow.  Here  it  is  necessary  to  point  out  an  important  dis- 
tinction in  the  organization  of  different  bands.  The  ordinary  Indian 
government  is  patriarchal,  and  in  many  bands  a  majority  of  the  fam- 
ilies are  in  some  way  related  to  the  chief;  but  though  the  chieftain- 
ship is  nominally  hereditary,  its  continuance  in  any  line  finally  de- 
pends on  the  prowess  of  the  claimant.  If  he  fails  in  any  particular, 
another  chief  at  once  supplants  him.  Hence  the  absurdity  of  the  plan 
generally  adopted  by  our  Government  of  trying  to  choose  chiefs  for 
the  Indians,  or  to  recognize  one  rather  than  another.  If  the-  young 
men  can  not  have  the  leader  they  want,  they  generally  join  the  "hos- 
tiles."  These  bands  are  made  up  on  an  entirely  different  plan — by 
convenience  rather  than  relationship.  Sitting  Bull,  Crazy  Horse,  or 
some  other  active  fighter,  gets  a  reputation  as  war  chief,  and  all  the 
discontented  braves  join  him ;  as  a  rule  there  are  few  women  in  such  a 
band,  and  the  number  of  men  is,  therefore,  apt  to  be  underrated  on 
distant  view.  Still  more  distinct  is  a  third  class,  commonly  known  as 
"  dog  soldiers."  These  are  outcasts  or  runaways  from  all  the  tribes, 
who  get  together  in  squads  of  from  five  to  five  hundred;  sometimes 
they  dissolve  and  melt  into  the  original  tribes,  sometimes  are  merged 
into  some  one  big  tribe,  or  sfrnply  wear  out.  Their  communication  at 
first  is  entirely  by  the  "sign  language;"  if  together  long  enough,  a 
new  Indian  dialect  arises  from  the  jargon  of  so  many  tongues.  It  has 
occasionally  happened  that  a  large  band  of  "dog  soldiers"  would  cap- 
ture women  enough  for  their  wants,  conquer  a  territory  for  them- 
selves, and  in  time  grow  into  an  entirely  new  tribe.  Thus  the 
Comanches,  Arapahoes  and  Apaches  are  said  to  have  descended  from 
the  original  Shoshonees;  while  the  Navajoes  resulted  from  the  union 
of  part  of  the  old  Aztecs  with  an  offshoot  of  the  Shoshonees — or  of  the 
original  Athabascan  stock,  from  which  the  latter  sprang. 

In  1876,  Sitting1  Bull  and  Crazy  Horse  led  the  hostile  Sioux,  and  to 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  545 

them  rapidly  gathered  all  the  discontented  young  braves  from  the 
agencies.  As  near  as  can  be  determined  the  latter  chief  began  the 
season  with  eight  hundred  braves — the  former  with  nearly*  twice  as 
many.  Their  position  was  the  best  that  military  art  could  have  se- 
lected. From  it  the  affluents  of  the  Yellowstone  ran  northward;  the 
lower  affluents  of  the  Missouri  eastward ;  on  the  east  and  north  it  was 
doubly  protected  by  the  "  bad  lands ;"  north-west  and  west  were 
rugged  mountains,  and  southward  the  high  plains  stretched  for  many 
hundred  miles.  Around  the  extreme  outer  edge  of  the  hostile  coun- 
try, from  north-west  and  north  to  north-east  and  east,  ran  the  Mis- 
souri ;  on  that  stream  were  located  all  the  agencies,  and  from  them, 
through  "  friendly  "  Indians,  went  a  constant  stream  of  supplies  to  the 
warriors.  By  careful  examination  of  the  books  (after  the  damage  had 
been  done),  it  was  proved  that  these  bands  received  in  five  months 
56  cases  of  arms,  containing  1,120  Winchester  and  Remington  rifles, 
and  413,000  rounds  of  patent  ammunition,  besides  considerable  quan- 
tities of  loose  powder,  lead  and  primers.  It  takes  many  such  lessons 
as  this  to  convince  the  American  people  that  this  machine  we  call  gov- 
ernment is  the  most  awkward,  expensive  and  inefficient  of  all  human 
inventions ;  and  yet  the  lesson  is  not  learned,  for,  in  spite  of  daily 
multiplying  evidences  of  its  inherent  inefficiency,  new  parties  start  up 
every  year  urging  that  government  should  run  our  schools  and 
churches,  our  mills,  mines  and  workshops,  our  social,  moral  and  in- 
dustrial institutions.  Daily  is  the  lesson  thrust  upon  us,  that  whatever 
government  does  is  done  wrong ;  and  daily  we  hear  fresh  demands  that 
government  should  do  things  which  it  was  never  organized  to  do. 
The  plain  English  of  the  foregoing  figures  is,  that  government  first 
armed  the  savages  with  repeating  rifles,  then  sent  an  inferior  force  to 
attack  them  on  ground  of  their  own  choosing. 

Three  columns  were  to  proceed  from  three  points  and  converge  on  the 
hostile  region :  Gibbon  eastward  from  Fort  Ellis,  Montana ;  Crook 
northward  from  Fort  Fetterman ;  and  Terry  westward  from  Fort  Abe 
Lincoln,  just  across  the  Missouri  from  Bismarck,  Dakota.  Of  course 
they  could  not  start  at  the  same  time.  General  Crook,  with  seven 
hundred  men  and  forty  days'  supplies,  started  the  1st  of  March  and 
reached  and  destroyed  the  village  of  Crazy  Horse,  on  Powder  River, 
the  17th  of  March.  But  the  Indians  got  away  with  most  of  their  ani- 
mals and  supplies.  The  Gibbon  column  did  not  figure  greatly  till 
the  junction  with  Terry  on  the  Yellowstone.  Meanwhile  the  Terry 
column,  in  which  General  Custer  was  the  leading  spirit,  was  delayed 

in  a  score  of  ways.     It  could  not  start  as  early  as  that  of  Crook  any- 
35 


546  WESTERN  WILDS. 

how,  as  it  was  to  move  through  a  colder  latitude,  and,  while  waiting, 
Custer  was  summoned  to  Washington.  The  Belknap  investigation 
was  in  progress,  and  Hon.  Heister  Clymer,  Chairman  of  the  House 
Committee,  got  it  into  his  head  that  Custer  could  give  important  in- 
formation. In  vain  did  Custer  dispatch  that  he  really  knew  nothing 
about  the  case,  and  Terry  urge  that  his  call  to  Washington  would 
delay  and  imperil  the  expedition.  Clymer  was  all  the  more  certain 
Custer  had  important  information,  and  should  be  brought  before  the 
committee  and  rigidly  interrogated.  On  the  6th  of  March,  Custer  tel- 
egraphed a  request  that  he  might  be  examined  at  Fort  Lincoln.  This 
Clymer  flatly  refused.  Custer  had  to  go  to  Washington,  and  there  it 
was  found  that  he  really  knew  nothing  about  the  case,  and  had  only, 
as  was  natural  to  one  of  his  impulsive  nature,  talked  freely  about  what 
he  had  heard.  But  Heister  Clymer  had  the  satisfaction  of  compelling 
a  General  to  come  before  his  committee,  and  delaying  Custer's  march 
after  Sitting  Bull  a  whole  month.  Then  President  Grant  took  hold. 
The  grim,  impassive,  hard-to-change  General  Grant  took  it  into  his 
head  that  Custer's  talk  about  the  case  had  been  an  intentional  affront 
to  him — why,  no  one  ever  knew.  He  refused  to  see  Custer,  though 
the  latter  repeatedly  called  at  the  White  House,  and  once  sent  in  a 
card  asking  in  plain  terms  for  a  reconciliation. 

Custer  then  .called  at  the  office  of  General  Sherman,  only  to  learn 
that  the  latter  was  in  New  York,  and  might  not  return  for  some  time; 
then,  on  the  night  of  May  1,  took  the  train  for  Chicago.  Next  day 
Sherman  returned,  and  telegraphed  to  General  Sheridan  at  Chicago, 
that  Custer  "was  not  justified  in  leaving  here  witnout  seeing  me 
(Sherman)  or  the  President/'  and  ordered  that  Custer  remain  at  Saint 
Paul  till  further  orders.  Somebody  was  evidently  playing  sad  havoc 
with  Custer's  character  and  plans.  He  had,  perhaps,  talked  too 
much — that  was  his  fault,  if  any  thing — but  it  is  impossible  for  the 
non-military  mind  to  see  any  other  harm  he  had  done.  He  was  in 
genuine  distress.  He  telegraphed  at  length  to  General  Sherman,  and 
then  to  President  Grant ;  and  the  final  result  was  that,  after  a  deal  of 
red  tape  all  around,  he  received  permission  to  go  with  the  expedition,  in 
command  of  his  regiment,  the  Seventh  U.  S.  Cavalry.  The  Terry  col- 
umn consisted  of  the  Seventh  Cavalry  entire,  three  companies  of  the 
Sixth  and  Seventeenth  Infantry,  with  four  Gatling  guns  and  a  small 
detachment  of  Indian  scouts,  about  eight  hundred  men  in  all.  Gibbon 
was  coming  in  from  the  west  with  four  hundred  men,  and  Crook  had 
made  another  start  from  the  south  with  fifteen  hundred  men.  Thus 
there  were  twenty-seven  hundred  armed  men,  distributed  on  the 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  547 

circumference  of  a  circle  about  three  hundred  miles  wide,  to  concen- 
trate near  the  center  where  the  hostiles  were  supposed  to  be. 

Crook  first  found  the  enemy.  On  the  8th  of  June,  his  force  had  a 
skirmish  with  the  Sioux,  and  repulsed  them.  A  week  later  his  Indian 
scouts  reported  that  they  had  seen  Gibbon's  command  on  the  other 
side  of.  the  hostile  Sioux,  on  the  Tongue  River.  On  the  16th  Crook 
pushed  rapidly  forward  towards  the  hostiles.  Next  morning  Sitting 
Bull  attacked  his  camp  in  great  force  and  with  astonishing  vigor.  It 
was  not  exactly  a  surprise,  but  all  must  agree  that  Crook  gained  no 
advantage,  and  that  Sitting  Bull  handled  his  forces  admirably.  Twice 
during  the  action  he  succeeded  in  getting  his  warriors  into  positions 
where  they  poured  an  enfilading  fire  into  Crook's  command.  Mean- 
while Generals  Terry  and  Gibbon  had  communicated,  and  the  latter 
had  shown,  by  thorough  scouting,  that  the  hostiles  were  as  yet  all  south 
of  the  Yellowstone.  A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  that  the  Powder, 
Tongue,  Rosebud,  and  Big  Horn  run  north  into  the  Yellowstone,  and 
the  Little  Horn  into  the  Big  Horn  ;  and  that,  after  these  various  scouts, 
it  was  certain  the  hostiles  were  somewhere  on  those  streams.  Accord- 
ingly Terry  commenced  scouting  for  them  in  that  direction.  So  far 
the  general  plan  had  worked  well ;  its  defect  now  appeared  to  be  that 
Gibbon  and  Terry  were  separated  from  Crook  by  at  least  a  hundred 
miles  of  mountainous  country,  and  that  in  that  region  somewhere  were 
the  hostiles,  in  good  position  to  move  either  way.  The  whole  object 
of  this  plan  was  to  prevent  the  Indians  getting  away  without  a  fight, 
and  as  to  that  it  was  a  perfect  success.  The  contingency  of  the  In- 
dians being  well  prepared  for  a  fight  had  apparently  not  been  consid- 
ered. 

Careful  scouting  narrowed  the  field,  and  finally  it  was  decided  that 
the  Indians  were  either  on  the  head  of  the  Rosebud  or  on  the  Little 
Horn,  a  ridge  about  fifteen  miles  wide  separating  the  two  streams. 
Terry  and  Gibbon,  on  the  Yellowstone,  near  the  mouth  of  Tongue 
River,  then  held  a  council,  and  decided  that  Glister's  column  should 
be  pushed  forward  to  strike  the  first  blow.  Crook  was  too  far  south 
to  be  considered  in  this  arrangement  at  all.  The  general  plan  is 
briefly  stated  in  Terry's  dispatch  to  General  Sheridan,  from  the  for- 
mer's camp  at  the  mouth  of  Rosebud,  just  before  the  final  movement, 
as  follows: 

Traces  of  a  large  and  recent  camp  of  Indians  have  been  discovered  twenty  or  thirty 
miles  up  the  Rosebud.  Gibbon's  column  will  move  this  morning  on  the  north  side  of 
the  Yellowstone  (see  map),  where  it  will  be  ferried  across  by  the  supply  steamer,  and 
Vhence  it  will  proceed  to  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Horn,  and  so  on.  Ciister  will  go  up 


548  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  Rosebud  to-morrow  with  his  whole  regiment,  and  thence  to  the  head-waters  of  the 
Little  Horn,  thence  down  the  Little  Horn. 

The  object,  of  course,  was  for  Custer  to  head  off  the  escape  of  the 
Indians  towards  the  east,  while  Gibbon  would  move  up  the  Big  Horn 
and  intercept  them  in  that  direction.  It  has  been  absurdly  said 
that  Custer  disobeyed  or  exceeded  the  general  orders  he  received  from 
Terry ;  but,  in  fact,  those  orders  were  so  very  "  general,"  that,  aside 
from  the  instructions  as  to  route  and  sending  scouts  to  seek  Gibbon, 
they  might  have  been  condensed  to,  "Go  ahead,  do  yom-  best;  I  trust 
all  to  you."  Similar  orders  directed  the  march  of  Gibbon  up  the  Big 
Horn.  Should  both  columns  march  equally,  all  else  being  equal,  it 
would  result  that  they  would  come  together  on  the  Big  Horn,  some 
distance  above  (south)  the  junction  of  the  Little  Horn.  There  ap- 
pears to  have  been  no  special  order  given  as  to  rates  of  marching ;  and 
so  far  the  witnesses  do  not  agree  very  well  as  to  what  either  com- 
mander was  to  do  if  he  struck  the  Indians  first.  The  reasonable  sup- 
position is,  that  it  was  understood  beforehand  they  were  to  fight  on 
sight.  It  was  hardly  to  be  supposed  that  Sitting  Bull  would  accom- 
modate them  by  slowly  retiring  before  either,  until  the  other  could 
come  up  in  his  rear.  Ouster's  command  received  rations  for  fifteen 
days.  Thus  supplied,  and  thus  directed  with  only  general  orders  and 
plenary  powers  under  them,  Custer  and  his  cavalry  set  out  up  the 
Rosebud  on  the  afternoon  of  June  22,  1876,  which  is  the  last  account 
we  have  from  him  in  person.  Thereafter  his  movements  are  known 
only  by  the  report  of  Major  Reno,  who  succeeded  to  the  command  of 
that  section  of  the  regiment  which  survived;  the  statements  of  various 
officers  in  the  same  command ;  the  evidence  of  Curly,  an  Upsaroka 
scout,  who  alone  survived  the  massacre,  and  some  unsatisfactory  ac- 
counts from  the  enemy.  From  all  these  sources,  and  a  careful  exam- 
ination of  the  trails  and  battle-ground,  the  following  facts  are  proved : 

On  the  22d,  Custer  marched  his  command  about  twelve  miles  up 
the  Rosebud,  and  encamped.  On  the  23d  they  continued  up  the  Rose- 
bud for  about  thirty-five  miles,  perhaps  a  little  less.  On  the  24th 
they  advanced  rapidly  twenty-eight  miles,  and  finding  a  fresh  Indian 
trail,  halted  for  reports  from  scouts.  By  night  they  had  received  full 
reports,  and  about  9:30  P.  M.,  Custer  called  the  officers  together  and 
informed  them  that  the  Indians  were  in  the  valley  of  the  Little  Horn, 
and  that  to  surprise  them  they  must  cross  over  from  one  stream  to  the 
other  in  the  night.  Accordingly  they  moved  off  at  11  P.  M. ;  but  about 
2  A.  M.  of  the  25th,  the  scouts  gave  notice  that  the  command  could 
not  get  across  the  divide  before  daylight ;  so  a  halt  was  made,  provis- 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  549 

ions  prepared,  and  breakfast  eaten.  Right  here,  apparently,  Ouster's 
original  plan  failed.  It  would  seem  to  have  been  his  intention  to*  re- 
peat the  Washita  battle,  and  attack  at  sunrise.  By  8  A.  M.,  the  com- 
mand was  neariug  the  Little  Horn.  Here  the  regiment  was  divided. 
Major  Reno  took  command  of  companies  M,  A  and  G;  Captain  Ben- 
teen  of  H,  D,  and  K ;  Ouster  retained  companies  0,  E,  F,  I  and  L, 
and  Captain  McDougall,  with  company  B,  was  placed  as  rear-guard 
with  the  pack-train.  As  they  moved  down  the  creek  towards  the 
Little  Horn,  Custer  was  on  the  right  bank,  Major  Reno  on  the  left- 
bank,  and  Captain  Benteen  some  distance  to  the  left  of  Reno,  and  en- 
tirely out  of  sight.  As  near  as  can  be  determined  the  command  had 
marched  some  ninety  miles  since  leaving  Terry ;  but  it  is  claimed  by 
some  that  this  last  night  and  forenoon  march  was  much  longer  than 
reported. 

About  noon  they  came  in  sight  of  the  Indian  camp,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river,  which  at  that  point  runs  a  little  west  of  north,  with 
a  considerable  bend  to  the  north-east.  Enclosed  within  this  bend,  on 
the  left  (west)  side  of  the  stream,  began  the  Indian  camps,  which  con- 
tinued thence  a  long  way  down  the  Little  Horn.  As  the  command 
now  enters  the  battle  in  three  divisions,  we  must  consider  them  sepa- 
rately. As  far  as  Custer's  plan  can  be  known,  it  was  for  Reno  to 
cross,  attack  the  upper  end  of  the  Indian  camp,  and  drive  them  down 
stream  if  possible ;  at  any  rate,  to  employ  the  warriors  fully,  while  Custer 
himself,  to  be  reinforced  by  Benteen,  should  gallop  around  the  bend 
of  the  Little  Horn  and  down  some  distance,  then  cross,  and  attack 
from  that  side.  It  was  evident  that  the  time  for  a  complete  surprise 
was  past.  The  last  order  Reno  had  from  Custer  was :  "  Move  forward 
at  as  rapid  a  gait  as  you  think  prudent,  charge  afterwards,  and  the 
whole  outfit  will  support  you."  Pursuant  thereto,  Reno  with  his 
command  took  a  sharp  trot  for  two  miles  down  the  stream  to  a  con- 
venient ford ;  then  crossed,  deployed  with  the  Ree  scouts  on  his  left, 
and  opened  the  battle,  the  Indians  retiring  before  him  for  about  two 
and  a  half  miles.  And  here  comes  in  the  first  doubtful  proceeding. 
Reno  says  :  "  I  saw  that  I  was  being  drawn  into  some  trap.  *  *  *  .  J 
could  not  see  Custer  or  any  other  support,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
ground  seemed  to  grow  Indians.  They  were  running  towards  me  in 
swarms,  and  from  all  directions."  He  retired  a  little  to  a  piece  of 
woods,  dismounted,  had  his  men  fight  on  foot,  and  advanced  again. 
He  says  that  the  odds  were  five  to  one,  and  he  saw  that  he  must  re- 
gain high  ground  or  be  surrounded.  Accordingly  he  remounted  his 
men,  charged  across  the  stream,  some  distance  below  where  he  had 


550  WESTERN  WILDS. 

crossed  before,  and  hurried  to  the  top  of  the  bluff,  losing  three  officers 
and  twenty-nine  men  killed,  and  seven  men  wounded  in  this  operation. 
In  fact,  nearly  his  entire  loss  occurred  in  this  retreat,  men  and  horses 
being  shot  from  behind.  It  would  seem  to  a  civilian,  who  has,  per- 
haps, no  right  to  criticise  an  Indian  fight,  that  it  would  have  been  far 
cheaper,  and  more  nearly  in  accordance  jwith  his  orders,  to  stick  to 
the  woods  on  the  west  side  and  fight  it  out  for  a  few  hours.  The  sur- 
geon present  says  there  was  only  one  man  wounded  before  Reno  aban- 
doned the  timber. 

We  turn  now  to  Benteen.  That  officer,  having  been  ordered  to 
the  extreme  left  while  marching  down  the  affluent  towards  the  Little 
Horn,  was  necessarily  several  miles  off  when  the  rest  of  the  com- 
mand turned  to  the  right  and  down  the  Little  Horn.  Finding  no 
Indians,  he  recrossed  the  affluent  and  marched  down  the  trail  left  by 
Custer.  About  three  miles,  as  he  says,  from  where  Reno  first  crossed, 
he  met  a  sergeant  carrying  orders  to  Captain  McDongall  to  hurry  up 
the  pack-train ;  a  little  further  on  he  met  Trumpeter  Martin  with 
an  order  from  Custer,  written  by  Adjutant  McCook,  and  the  last  he 
ever  penned,  which  read,  "Benteen,  come  on;  big  village;  be  quick; 
bring  packs."  About  a  mile  further  on  he  came  in  sight  of  the 
Little  Horn,  and  saw  Reno  retreating  up  the  bluffs.  He  also  saw 
"  twelve  or  fifteen  dismounted  men  fighting  on  the  plain,  the  Indians 
there  numbering  about  900 ! "  About  2:30  P.  M.,  he  came  up  to 
where  Reno  had  gathered  his  forces  on  the  right  bluff.  The  di- 
vision of  the  regiment  into  three  battalions  was  made  at  10:30  A.  M.; 
Benteen  says  that  his  scout  and  return  to  the  main  trail  occupied  about 
one  hour  and  a  half,  bringing  it  to  noon.  How  he  consumed  the 
time  from  then  till  2:30  P.  M.,  none  of  the  reports  inform  us.  The 
distance  traversed  could  not  have  been  over  five  miles,  if  we  can 
trust  any  thing  to  the  military  map.  It  also  appears  from  the  re- 
port that  Boston  Custer,  brother  of  the  General,  had  time  to  come  to 
the  rear  and  pack-train,  get  a  fresh  horse,  and  go  back  to  Custer, 
passing  Benteen,  and  be  killed  in  the  final  slaughter.  The  reports 
by  various  survivors  seem  to  leave  us  in  ignorance  of  much  that  we 
should  like  to  know. 

It  was  now  near  3  P.  M.,  and  as  senior  Major  Reno  had  in  com- 
mand his  own  and  Benteen's  battalions,  and  the  company  guard- 
ing the  pack-train :  Companies  A,  B,  D,  G,  H,  K  and  M,  numbering  380 
men,  commanded  by  Captains  Benteen,  Weir,  French  and  McDougall, 
and  Lieutenants  Godfrey,  Mathey,  Gibson,  Edgerly,  Wallace,  Var- 
num  and  Hare.  With  them  was  Surgeon  Porter.  These  officers  are 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  551 

restrained,  to  a  great  extent,  by  military  courtesy,  but  as  far  as  their 
statements  have  been  made  public  they  indicate  that  there  was  no 
very  determined  effort  made  to  aid  Custer.  Major  Reno  waited  on 
the  bluff  awhile  (length  of  time  not  settled  yet),  then  moved  slowly 
down  the  stream,  and  sent  Captain  Weir  with  his  command  to  open 
communication  with  Custer.  Weir  soon  returned  with  the  informa- 
tion that  the  Indians  were  coming  en  masse;  and,  in  a  little  while 
after,  Reno's  force  was  furiously  attacked.  We  learn  at  this  stage  of 
the  report  that  it  was  now  6  P.  M.  It  seems  impossible  to  stretch 
any  action  of  which  mention  is  made  so  as  to  cover  the  time  between 
three  and  six.  And  yet  it  appears  from  an  examination  of  the 
ground,  that  Custer  could  not,  at  three,  have  been  more  than  three 
miles  away.  And,  in  the  interim,  the  little  squad  of  dismounted 
men  whom  Benteen  saw  across  the  river,  had  beaten  off  the  Indians 
opposed  to  them  and  succeeded  in  reaching  Reno  without  loss!  But 
Reno's  command  was  attacked,  as  aforesaid,  about  6  P.  M.;  held  its 
ground  with  the  loss  of  18  killed  and  46  wounded,  and  had  the 
enemy  beaten  off  by  9  P.  M.  There  is  every  evidence  that  Reno 
behaved  with  coolness  and  bravery,  and  Benteen  with  proper  ac- 
tivity, during  this  battle ;  and  still  the  report  does  not  inform  us  as 
to  the  exercise  of  those  qualities  earlier  in  the  afternoon. 

And  where  all  this  time  was  Custer?  The  trail,  the  heaps  of  dead 
and  the  few  accounts  from  eye-witnesses  tell  a  plain  story.  He  came 
at  high  speed  to  a  ford  of  the  Little  Horu  which  would  have 
brought  him  about  the  middle  of  the  Indian  camps.  But  in  this 
short  space  of  time  the  Indians  had  vanquished  Reno,  and  their 
whole  force  were  there  to  oppose  him.  He  gave  back  from  the  ford, 
and  the  Indians  followed  in  overwhelming  numbers.  They  were 
now  on  the  way  he  had  come,  and  he  continued  his  retreat  along  the 
bluffs  down  the  river.  He  had  in  his  command  but  four  hundred 
and  twenty  men,  and  the  Indians  must  have  numbered  nearly  two 
thousand.  Who  can  tell  the  agony  of  that  terrible  retreat  and  last 
desperate  struggle?  When  the  command  had  reached  a  point  nearly 
a  mile  from  the  ford,  Custer  evidently  saw  that  a  sacrifice  was  neces- 
sary to  save,  if  possible,  a  remnant  of  his  command.  To  this  end  he 
chose  his  brother-in-law,  Lieutenant  James  Calhoun ;  with  him  was 
Lieutenant  Crittenden,  their  company  having  been  selected  to  cover 
the  retreat.  They  were  found  in  line  all  dead  together,  the  offi- 
cers in  their  proper  places  in  the  rear,  the  company  having  died 
fighting  to  the  last  man. 

A  little  further  on  another   desperate   stand   was   made.      Then  a 


552  WESTERN  WILDS. 

mile  from  the  scene  of  Calhoun's  death,  on  the  ridge  parallel  to  the 
stream,  Captain  Keogh's  company  made  a  stand  to  cover  the  retreat. 
Keogh  had  evidently  nerved  himself  for  death.  He  was  an  old  and 
able  soldier.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  Papal  service  when  Garibaldi 
made  war  upon  the  Pope,  and  had  served  in  the  army  of  the  Potomac 
during  the  war.  Down  went  he  and  his  company,  slaughtered  in 
position,  every  man  maintaining  his  place  and  fighting  desperately  to 
the  last. 

Ouster,  with  the  remnant  of  his  command,  had  taken  up  his  posi- 
tion on  the  next  hill.  Curly,  the  Upsaroka  scout,  tells  us  that  he 
ran  to  Custer  when  he  saw  that  the  command  was  doomed,  and  of- 
fered to  show  him  a  way  of  escape.  General  Custer  dropped  his 
head,  as  if  in  thought,  for  one  moment,  then  suddenly  jerking  it  up 
again  he  stamped  his  foot  and  waving  Curly  away  with  his  sword, 
turned  to  rejoin  his  men.  In  that  brief  interval  of  thought  he  had 
decided  to  die  with  his  men  rather  than  attempt  to  escape.  There  had 
been  a  short  lull  in  the  fight,  while  the  Sioux  were  maneuvering  for  a 
better  position.  The  firing  now  recommenced  with  more  fury  than 
ever.  Curly  dashed  into  a  ravine,  let  down  his  hair  so  as  to  resem- 
ble a  Sioux  as  much  as  possible,  mounted  a  horse,  and  joined  in  the 
next  charge ;'  but  watched  his  opportunity  to  put  on  a  Sioux  blanket, 
and  in  the  heat  of  the  battle  slipped  away. 

Custer  had  now  made  his  last  stand.  It  was  on  the  most  com- 
manding point  of  the  ridge ;  and  there  with  Captain  Yates,  Colonel 
Cook,  Captain  Custer,  Lieutenant  Riley  and  thirty-two  men  of 
Yates'  command,  he  fought  desperately  to  the  last.  One  by  one  his 
companions  fell  around  him.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  Sioux, 
like  hounds  baying  a  lion,  dashing  around  and  firing  into  the  com- 
mand from  all  sides.  Finally  the  whites  made  a  sort  of  barricade  of 
their  dead  horses,  and  again  for  a  few  minutes  held  the  savages  at 
bay.  Then  Rain-in-the-Face,  bravest  Indian  in  the  North-west, 
gathered  his  most  trusty  followers  for  a  hand  to  hand  charge. 
Custer  fought  like  a  tiger.  With  blood  streaming  from  half  a  dozen 
gaping  wounds,  he  killed  or  disabled  three  of  the  enemy  with  his 
saber,  and  when  his  last  support  was  gone,  as  he  lunged  desperately 
at  his  nearest  enemy,  Rain-in-the-Face  kept  his  oath  and  shot  the 
heroic  commander  dead. 

But  the  battle  was  not  over.  Captain  Custer  and  Captain  Smith 
tried  to  cut  their  way  back  to  the  river,  and  in  the  ravine  leading 
that  way  twenty-six  men  were  found  dead.  The  heroic  remnant 
made  their  last  stand  near  the  river,  and  there  every  man  was  found 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  553 

dead  in  position,  every  officer  in  his  place,  every  wound  in  front. 
The  awful  tragedy  ended  with  the  day.  General  Ouster  lay  dead  on 
the  hill.  Beside  him  lay  Colonel  Tom  Ouster,  who  enlisted  as  a 
private  at  sixteen,  was  an  officer  at  nineteen,  and  had  been  twice  dec- 
orated for  bravery  in  action.  In  the  same  slaughter  died  two  morn 
of  the  family.  Boston  Ouster,  forage-master  to  the  Seventh  Cavalry,  hac1 
sought  the  open  air  life  of  the  plains  to  ward  off  a  tendency  to  con- 
sumption which  early  manifested  itself.  He  avoided  a  lingering 
death  by  a  heroic  exit,  fit  subject  for  epic  poem  or  thrilling  ro- 
mance. And  there  was  young  "Autie"  Reed,  a  mere  boy,  named 
after  General  Ouster  himself,  his  nephew,  son  of -the  older  sister,  who 
had,  in  fact,  reared  the  General.  It  was  cruel  that  he,  too,  should 
die  in  this  fearful  massacre.  Autie  was  just  out  of  school  and  wa,J 
eager  to  go  on  the  plains  "with  Uncle  Autie."  To  please  the  lad 
Ouster  had  him  and  a  class-mate  appointed  herders,  to  drive  the  cat- 
tle accompanying  the  column.  He  had  come  with  his  uncle  on  thif 
last  scout,  and  here  met  with  his  death,  equally  brave  with  the 
bravest.  Lieutenant  James  Calhoun,  the  remaining  member  of  this 
relationship,  had  married  Maggie  E.  Ouster,  the  General's  only 
sister,  in  1872 ;  and  in  every  emergency  showed  himself  worthy  of 
adoption  into  this  brave  family.  Cheered  on  by  his  voice,  every 
man  of  his  company  died  in  place.  With  him  was  Lieutenant  Crit- 
tenden  of  the  Twelfth  Infantry,  a  mere  boy,  just  appointed,  but  cool  as 
a  veteran  through  all  the  terrible  scene.  A  whole  brotherhood  of 
brave  officers  were  cut  off;  for  Custer  had  gathered  around  him  a 
circle  of  choice  spirits,  who  admired  his  dash,  and  emulated  his 
bravery.  There  was  the  Adjutant,  Col.  Wm.  W.  Cook,  a  Canadian 
by  birth,  who  had  enlisted  in  the  Twenty-fourth  New  York  Cavalry 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  and  risen  to  be  its  Colonel.  And  Cap- 
tain Yates,  who  enlisted  as  a  private  at  sixteen  and  worked  his  way  up. 
They  used  to  call  his  company  the  "band-box  troop,"  they  were  so 
neat  in  their  dress  and  equipments ;  but  every  man  of  them  died  at 
his  post.  The  last  commander  of  all  was  Captain  Algernon  E.  Smith, 
who  won  renown  at  the  storming  of  Fort  Fisher;  was  wounded,  and 
for  his  bravery  made  brevet  Major.  But,  perhaps,  the  saddest  loss  of 
all  was  that  of  Lieutenant  William  Van  W.  Reily.  He  was  of  he- 
roic stock.  His  father,  an  officer  in  the  navy,  went  down  with  his 
ship  in  the  Indian  Ocean  a  short  time  before  William  was  born. 
He  left  his  widowed  mother  for  this  expedition,  and  died  in  com- 
pany with  all  the  brave  men  who  then  made  their  last  fight.  The 


554  WESTERN    WILDS. 

night  fell  upon  all  these  brave  officers  and  three  hundred  men,  lying 
dead  upon  the  field. 

The  full  history  of  the  battle  is  not  yet  known.  This  I  say,  despite 
the  fact  that  military  reports  have  been  made  by  the  commanders, 
and  published  by  authority.  But  they  leave  much  unknown.  In 
a  quiet  way  there  has  been  much  crimination  and  recrimination; 
one  party  has  accused  Reno  and  Benteen  of  cowardice  or  disobe- 
dience; the  other,  including  General  Grant,  has  charged  that  Cus- 
ter  exceeded  his  orders  and  sacrificed  his  command.  Without  adopt- 
ing the  extreme  view  of  either  side,  this  would  seem  to  a  civilian 
about  the  correct  state  of  the  case:  The  regiment  attacked  a  force  of 
Indians  outnumbering  the  soldiers  two  or  three  to  one,  and  well 
armed,  ready  for  fight,  well  posted,  in  broad  day,  when  men  and 
animals  were  fatigued,  and  so  insured  defeat;  then  Reno  and  Ben- 
teen,  seeing  that  retreat  was  a  certainty,  thought  best  to  keep  out 
of  the  fight,  perhaps  supposing  that  Custer  would,  in  like  manner, 
retreat  after  a  brief  skirmish.  I  can  not  see  that  victory  would  have 
been  possible  in  any  event — no  matter  if  the  whole  force  had  at- 
tacked at  once,  as  originally  intended. 

This  disaster,  of  course,  spoiled  the  original  plan.  General  Gibbon 
came  up  with  reinforcements,  and  the  Indians  moved.  Successive 
minor  battles  and  skirmishes  followed,  by  which,  though  no  one  great 
victory  was  gained,  the  hostiles  were  slowly  worn  out  and  scattered. 
Many  of  the  braves  made  their  way  back  to  the  agencies,  others 
retreated  to  less  accessible  positions  in  the  mountains,  and  Sitting 
Bull,  with  a  remnant,  retreated  into  British  America,  whence  he  has 
'since,  with  much  pow-wow  and  flourish,  returned.  The  war  in  that 
section  soon  died  out,  but  a  few  words  additional  may  be  appro- 
priate of  the  Indians  in  general.  A  glance  at  the  map  of  Aborginal 
America  will  show  that  very  few  of  the  Indian  nations  have  retained 
their  original  locations;  but  it  must  not  be  judged  therefrom  that 
numerous  tribes  have  become  extinct.  The  Indian  population  of  this 
country  at  the  landing  of  Columbus  has  been  greatly  exaggerated. 
It  is  demonstrable  that  all  that  part  of  the  United  States  east  of  the 
Mississippi  never  contained  half  a  million  ^Indians ;  some  authorities 
say  a  quarter  of  a  million.  It  is  apparent  at  a  glance  that  a  country 
like  Ohio  will  sustain  four  hundred  times  as  many  people  in  the  civ- 
ilized as  in  the  savage  state.  When  men  live  upon  game  and  the 
spontaneous  products  of  the  earth,  it  must  be  a  fertile  land  indeed 
which  will  sustain  an  average  of  one  person  to  the  square  mile. 
When  we  pass  to  the  Indian  of  the  plains  the  original  population  was 


THE  NOBLE  EED  MAN.  555 

sparser  still.  But  there  we  find  some  of  the  races  on  the  soil  where 
first  discovered.  The  Sioux  have  steadily  contracted  their  eastern 
border,  while  maintaining  their  western  border  intact.  But  if,  leaving 
history  we  take  tradition,  we  find  that  the  Indian  tribes  have  been 
engaged  for  centuries  in  a  series  of  migrations,  the  northern  ones  as  a 
rule  slowly  pushing  southward.  As  all  our  mountain  chains  run 
north  and  south,  it  follows  that  the  people  of  this  country  can  not 
grow  into  distinct  races  as  in  Europe,  where  different  climates  and 
soils  are  partitioned  off  by  natural  barriers.  Hence  the  Indian,  from 
Manitoba  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  is  one;  hence,  too,  half  a  million 
men  of  the  West  rose  in.  arms  to  prevent  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi 
being  "  held  by  an  alien  government."  Of  the  Indian  migrations, 
the  best  authenticated  are  those  of  the  Shoshonees  and  Sioux,  which 
are  referred  to  in  the  following  legend,  as  related  to  the  interpreter 
by  Susuceicha,  a  Sioux  chief: 

"Ages  past  the  Lacotas  (or  Dakotas,  i.  e.}  Sioux)  lived  in  a  land  far 
above  the  sun-  of  winter. 

"  Here  then  the  Shoshonee  had  all,  but  these  basins  were  yet  full  of 
water,  and  the  buffalo  ranged  even  to  the  Salt  Land  (Utah). 

"Ages  passed.  The  Shoshonees  gave  place  to  the  Scarred  Arms 
(Cheyennes).  The  Lacotas  came  toward  the  sun  and  fought  long  with 
the  Scarred  Arms.  A  great  party  came  far  into  the  inner  plain 
(Laramie)  and  fell  into  a  snare ;  all  were  killed  by  the  Scarred  Arms 
but  six;  these  hid  in  a  hole  in  the  mountain. 

"  They  built  a  fire  and  dressed  their  wounds ;  they  hoped  to  stay 
many  days  till  the  Scarred  Arms  left  the  plain.  But  a  form  rose 
from  the  dark  corner  of  the  cave ;  it  was  a  woman — old  as  the  red 
mountain  that  was  scarred  by  Waukan.  Her  hair  was  like  wool;  she 
was  feeble  and  wrinkled.  She  spoke : 

" '  Children,  you  have  been  against  the  Scarred  Arms.  You  alone 
live.  I  know  it  all.  But  your  fire  has  waked  me,  and  the  full  time 
of  my  dream  has  come.  Listen  : 

"'•Long  ago  the  Shoshonees  visited  the  Lacotas;  the  prairie  took  in 
the  blood  of  many  Lacota  braves,  and  I  was  made  captive.  The 
Shoshonees  brought  me  here,  but  I  was  not  happy.  I  fled.  I  was 
weak.  I  took  refuge  in  this  cave. 

"'But  look!  Where  are  the  Shoshonees?  The  Lacotas  will  soon 
know  them,  and  bring  from  their  lodges  many  scalps  and  medicine 
dogs.  They  have  fled  before  the  Scarred  Arms.  One-half  crossed 
the  snow  hills  toward  sunset;  the  other  went  toward  the  sun,  and  now 
hunt  the  buffalo  east  of  the  Ispanola's  earth  lodges.  But  my-  eyes 


556  ,  WESTERN  WILDS. 

were  sealed  for  ages  till  my  people  should  come.  The  Scarred  Arms 
have  long  thought  this  land  their  own,  but  it  is  not.  Waukantunga 
gives  it  to  the  Lacotas ;  they  shall  possess  the  land  of  their  daughter's 
captivity.  But  why  wait  ye?  Go  gather  your  warriors  and  attack 
the  Scarred  Arms.  Fear  not,  their  scalps  are  yours.' 

"The  warriors  did  return.  They  found  the  Scarred  Arms  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountain,  and  drove  them  to  the  South.  Our  grateful 
braves  then  sought  the  mountain  to  reverence  the  medicine  woman, 
who  told  them  so  many  good  things.  But  woman  and  cave  were 
gone.  There  was  only  a  cleft  in  the  mountain  side  from  which  came 
a  cold  stream  of  water.  Then  the  Lacotas  made  peace  with  the 
Scarred  Arms.  Each  year  our  warriors  visit  the  Shoshonees  for  scalps 
and  medicine  dogs,  and  each  of  our  braves,  as.  he  passjes  the  old 
woman's  spring,  stops  to  quench  his  thirst  and  yield  a  tribute  of  ven- 
eration." 

The  Shoshonees  not  only  have  a  legend  answering  to  this,  but  name 
the  various  times  when  the  Comanches,  Arapahoes,  -and  Apaches 
seceded  from  the  main  body.  Thus  this  great  colony  of  the  Athabas- 
can race,  slowly  moving  southward,  has  sent  off  branches  right  and 
left,  from  the  Saskatchewan  to  the  Rio  Grande  and  Gulf  of  California. 

It  would  surprise  some  people  who  have  been  indignant  over  the 
death  of  Ouster  and  his  companions  to  learn  how  small,  comparatively, 
is  the  number  of  hostile  Indians.  A  strip  of  500  miles  wide,  from 
the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific,  is  rarely  visited  by  hostiles;  and  at  no 
time  for  the  past  ten  years  have  more  than  one-fifth  of  the  race  been 
in  arms  or  even  threatening.  All  the  border  States  except  Texas  are 
free  from  hostiles.  Of  the  nine  Territories  only  three  have  been  seri- 
ously troubled  since  1867,  and  the  three  Pacific  States  have  had  even 
a  longer  exemption.  Within  that  time  Indian  hostilities  have  been 
confined  to  three  districts.  First,  and  greatest,  is  that  strip  of  mount- 
ain, forest,  and  desert  including  all  Northern  Wyoming,  South-eastern 
and  Eastern  Montana,  and  a  small  portion  of  Western  Dakota.  Next 
are  the  highlands  of  Western  Texas,  raided  by  the  Comanches.  and 
their  allies ;  and  lastly  that  part  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  dom- 
inated by  the  Apaches.  To  judge  how  contemptible  a  performance 
an  Indian  war  is,  how  small  the  glory  in  proportion  to  the  aggrava- 
tion, be  it  noted  that  the  whole  Apache  race  numbers  less  than  8,000, 
and  can  not  possibly  mount  2,000  warriors. 

If  it  be  decided  that  the  300,000  Indians  in  the  United  States  (or 
rather  the  200,000  wild  ones)  are  to  "  die  off,"  then  by  all  means  let  a 
"  feeding  policy  "  be  pursued ;  it  is  so  much  cheaper  to  kill  them  by 


THE  NOBLE  RED  MAN.  557 

kindness  than  by  war.  Since  1860  the  average  cost  of  killing  Indians 
has  been  about  $500,000  each.  One-tenth  that  amount  would  stuff  one 
to  death.  If,  I  say,  the  theory  of  final  extermination  be  adopted,  the 
most  Christian  and,  by  all  odds,  the  cheapest  plan  would  be  this  :  Let 
central  depots  be  established  along  the  Pacific  Railway  and  at  other 
accessible  points,  and  give  general  notice  that  every  Indian  who  will 
come  there  and  live  shall  have  all  the  bread,  meat,  coffee,  sugar, 
whisky  and  tobacco  he  can  consume.  The  last  man  of  them  would  be 
dead  in  ten  years,  and  at  a  cost  not  exceeding  twenty  per  cent,  of  the 
killing  price.  Since  the  Mormons  began  the  feeding  policy  with  their 
nearest  Indian  neighbors  the  latter  have  died  off  much  faster  than 
when  at  war.  They  can't  stand  petting  any  more  than  a  rabbit. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

PROSPECTING   AND    MINING. 

LET  us  "prospect,"  courteous  reader,  and  find,  locate,  develop, 
prove  up,  and  get  a  patent  for  a  silver  mine.  We  will  start  from 
Cincinnati ;  the  reader  may  do  the  hard  work,  and  the  author  will 
contribute  experience  and  a  free  talk  for  his  share  of  the  capital. 
Imprimis,  then,  we  need  not  look  for  a  silver  mine  in  this  part  of 
the  country;  but  we  can  hear  of  many.  For  silver  and  gold,  once 
brought  near  the  surface  by  cosmic  upheaval,  are  subject  to  wash 
and  removal  the  same  as  other  minerals;  and  as  "drift,"  the  loose 
material  of  the  earth's  surface,  is  made  up  of  the  wear  and  tear  of 
all  kinds  of  rocks,  it  often  contains  enough  gold  or  silver  to  mislead. 
Sometimes  a  rocky  hollow  furnishes  a  natural  trough  to  concentrate 
this  washed  mineral,  and  then  you  have  a  wonderful  story — we  will 
hear  half  a  dozen  of  them  in  our  trip  across  Southern  Indiana.  If 
you  can  find  an  Indian  tradition  to  match  it,  your  "hoodoo"  is  com- 
plete ;  for  nothing  sets  a  thing  of  that  sort  off  so  beautifully  as  an 
Indian  tradition.  If  you  can  add  to  it  that  some  poor  consumptive, 
years  ago  wandered  into  the  wilderness,  and  was  miraculously  cured 
by  an  "Injun  doctor,"  who  lived  in  a  wigwam  back  of  a  rock,  and  told 
him  about  the  mine,  you  will  then  have  the  average  legend  about  all 
the  silver  mines  reported  in  Ohio  and  Indiana. 

Of  course  there  can  be  no  such  thing  as  a  real  gold  or  silver  mine 
in  the  comparatively  level  strata  of  these  States;  we  must  find  a 
region  where  the  strata  have  been  heaved  up  and  split  across — where 
the  backbone  of  the  continent  is  laid  open.  For  illustration  take  a 
jelly-cake  of  many  layers  to  represent  any  part  of  the  earth  where 
the  rock  strata  are  in  place  and  undisturbed;  then  bend  it  to  a  sharp 
ridge  and  let  the  ragged  edges  wear  away;  the  crevices  between  what 
were  the  bottom  layers  will  be  exposed  on  top.  Precisely  this  has  hap- 
pened in  mining  regions;  and  after  these  contact  veins  were  formed, 
the  mountain  has  often  been  split  directly  across  its  regular  formation, 
thus  forming  true  fissure  veins.  But  uniformity  is  no  part  of  nature's 
design,  and  for  every  perfect  specimen  of  any  kind  she  produces  hun- 
dreds of  abortions,  imitations,  and  half-made  specimens.  We  shall  see 

(558) 


PROSPECTING  AND  MINING.  559 

how  these  mislead  us  when  we  reach  the  mines.  Going  on  westward, 
then,  we  find  various  rocks  coming  to  the  surface  in  this  order:  In 
Eastern  Indiana  the  Silurian,  next  the  Devonian,  and  then  the  Car- 
boniferous, which  extend  to  the  Mississippi.  After  a  short  strip  of 
older  rock  we  again  cross  some  carboniferous,  in  Missouri,  and  after 
getting  into  Kansas  every  day's  travel  for  six  hundred  miles  brings 
us  over  newer  rock.  First  is  a  narrow  strip  of  that  limestone  which, 
if  all  rocks  are  in  place,  lies  just  above  the  Coal  Measures;  then  we 
pass  rapidly  over  rocks  of  successively  later  eras,  and  near  Wichita, 
enter  on  the  "Chalk-stones"  (Cretaceous).  All  this  was  made  at  so 
late  a  day  that  we  need  not  look  for^rue  coal  even — much  less  for  gold 
or  silver — but  salt  and  alkali  soon  become  disgustingly  plenty.  Still 
further  on  we  find  newer  rock,  and  near  the  foot  of  the  mountains  are 
the  fossil  remains  of  huge  creatures  which  lived  just  before  man  came 
on  earth.  And  out  of  this  very  recent  formation  suddenly  rises  the 
Pike's  Peak  range,  consisting  largely  of  the  oldest  known  rocks. 
So  science  has  decided  that  long  after  Pike's  Peak  rose  to  mountain 
height  its  bases  were  washed  by  inland  seas,  and  that  the  eastern  one 
was  among  the  last  sections  of  America  to  become  dry  land. 

We  enter  the  mountains  and  observe  that  we  are  now  where  the 
lower  strata  have  been  heaved  up  and  split  across,  and  therefore  min- 
erals may  abound.  We  examine  all  the  streams  carefully  for  "float" — 
fragments  broken  off  the  croppings  of  some  mineral  vein  and  washed 
down.  If  the  float  shows  silver  or  lead,  good;  if  iron  or  copper,  it 
is  not  to  be  despised;  but  quartz  crystals,  iron  pyrites,  and  glitter- 
ing flakes  of  mica  will  certainly  attract  your  eye,  my  gentle  pilgrim. 
Even  a  mineral  stain  on  the  rocks  is  not  to  be  passed  without  ex- 
amination, though  we  don't  think  much  of  it  down  here  among  the 
foot-hills.  If  we  find  good  float,  or  even  specimens  of  rock  or  ores 
usually  associated  with  silver,  we  are  encouraged  and  toil  upward; 
for  we  do  not  hope  to  locate  in  the  foot-hills  or  even  near  the  base 
of  the  higher  range.  If  there  is  a  mine  there,  the  chances  are  thou- 
sands to  one  that  the  outcrop  is  covered  hundreds  of  feet  deep  by 
drift.  Obviously  the  higher  we  get  the  less  drift  there  is  on  the  bed 
rock,  till  we  reach  a  point  where  the  real  mountain  protrudes  its  bare 
rocky  points.  Nevertheless  we  examine  the  lower  slopes  carefully, 
for  we  may  find  a  "stream  of  float"  which  will  lead  us  directly 
to  the  vicinity  of  a  mine.  It  often  happens  that  such  a  stream 
leads  the  prospector  to  a  point  half  way  up  the  mountain,  then  sud- 
denly ceases.  Where,  then,  is  the  mine?  The  lode  from  which 
that  stream  was  derived  may  be  hundreds  or  thousands  of  feet  fur- 


560  WESTERN  WILDS. 

ther  up,  and  it  may  be  near  by  and  buried  beneath  the  drift.  When 
search  above  failed  to  find  it,  I  have  known  miners  to  turn  a  stream 
of  water  from  the  highest  practicable  mountain  torrent  and  wash  a 
gully  to  the  bed  rock,  down  the  mountain  side,  searching  the  bottom 
carefully  all  the  way  for  evidences  of  the  lode.  It  may  be,  however, 
that  the  lode  is  right  under  us,  but  shows  no  evidence  at  the  surface ; 
it  is  then  known  as  a  "blind  lode,"  and  is  either  discovered  by  mere 
accident  or  by  tracing  from  an  adjacent  gulch. 

Right  here  the  "pilgrim"  is  an  unfailing  source  of  amusement  to 
the  old  miner.  One  day  he  goes  wild  over  a  piece  of  iron  pyrites 
("fool's  gold"),  the  next  he  locates  a  mine  on  the  strength  of  a  slab 
of  yellow  mica;  now  his  spirits  mount  on  eagle's  wings  at  some  trifling 
outcrop  of  galena  or  iron,  and  again  the  mercury  goes  down  to  the 
bottom  of  his  boots  because  he  can  find  nothing  that  glitters.  But  the 
old  prospector  knows  too  well  that  silver  in  its  native  matrix  is  the 
most  modest  of  all  the  metals.  In  nature  it  is  like  the  native  dia- 
mond— without  luster.  It  is  only  the  low-grade  galena  ores,  the  many- 
hued  sulphur,  or  the  "peacock,"  which  dazzle  the  eye.  Horace  has 
well  expressed  it :  Nullus  argento  cohr  est  avaris  abditce  terris — "  There 
is  no  luster  to  silver  hidden  in  the  grasping  earth."  The  richer  an 
ore  is,  the  less  like  a  rich  ore  it  looks  to  the  unpracticed  eye. 

As  we  hunt  up  the  mountain  side  we  encounter  some  "blossom 
rock,"  which  is  merely  float  of  such  size,  richness,  and  generally  rag- 
ged contour  as  to  show  that  it  has  not  rolled  far.  The  trail  is  now  get- 
ting hot.  We  are  certainly  near  the  outcrop  from  which  the  "blossom" 
was  broken,  and  if  an  assay  shows  the  ore  attached  to  it  to  be  rich,  we 
feel  all  the  enthusiasm  of  the  true  prospector;  our  bacon  and  beans 
have  a  new  relish,  and  over  the  evening  pipe,  around  the  camp-fire, 
we  speculate  as  to  how  we  will  spend  all  the  money  we  are  sure  to 
make.  If  this  is  at  a  point  where  the  bed  rock  is  not  covered  by 
drift,  we  redouble  our  scrutiny;  we  tap  the  rock  at  every  point  and 
search  diligently  for  any  indications  of  mineral.  Stains  on  the  rock 
are  now  of  much  more  importance  than  they  were  among  the  foot- 
hills. If  the  snow  is  just  going  off  we  notice  very  carefully  what 
sort  of  a  stain  the  drip  leaves  on  the  rock.  Iron  stains  are  red; 
copper  stains,  a  reddish  yellow;  but  lead  and  silver  stains  are  gray, 
the  brightness  varying  with  the  proportion  of  other  minerals.  One 
of  the  richest  mines  in  American  Fork  Caflon,  Utah,  was  discovered 
by  following  up  a  stain  left  by  melting  snow.  But  while  we  specu- 
late on  these  things  we  happen  at  last  on  a  point  where  there  is  an 
unmistakable  outcrop  of  something  different  from  the  country  rock. 


PROSPECTING  AND  MINING.  561 

We  dig  and  blast  and  assay,  and  find  that  here  a  mineral-bearing 
ore  actually  projects  from  the  surface ;  and  now  we  are  in  luck. 

Are  we  though  ?  Well,  that  depends.  There  is  about  one  chance 
in  twenty  that  this  little  outcrop  is  the  end  of  a  large  continuous  crev- 
ice, and  about  one  chance  in  ten  that  such  a  crevice  when  found  will 
prove  a  valuable  mine.  For  the  reason  of  this  disgusting  fact  we 
must  go  back  to  the  origin  of  things,  and  consider  how  the  mountain 
came  to  have  crevices  in  it  at  all.  Suppose  a  mountain  of  massive 
rock,  or  of  massive  rock  below,  and  capped  by  sedimentary  (stratified) 
rock  above — the  whole  mass  broken  across  by  a  force  acting  from 
below — obviously  this  would  result:  the  force  would  split  the  mount- 
ain in  a  tolerably  direct  course  until  it  neared  the  surface ;  then  it 
would  shatter  the  cap  of  the  mountain,  there  being  less  resistance, 
and  the  fracturing  force  would  find  outlet  in  a  score  or  a  hundred 
minor  crevices.  This,  if  the  mountain  were  all  massive  rock;  but  if 
it  were  stratified  rock,  whether  limestone,  slate,  porphyry,  or  what 
not,  with  lines  of  cleavage  already  present,  the  fracturing  force  would 
of  course  follow  these  lines,  and  thus  you  would  find  scores  of  crevices 
at  the  surface  for  the  one  main  crevice  far  below.  Indeed,  what 
miners  call  a  "mother  lode"  is  often  like  a  tree  in  its  upward  devel- 
opment :  below  is  the  main  trunk,  above  the  branches  diverge,  and 
sometimes  one  immense  branch  strikes  off  at  right  angles  and  reaches 
the  surface  hundreds  or  thousands  of  feet  away.  The  outcrops  which 
led  to  the  noted  Comstock  Lode  spread  over  a  width  of  twelve  hun- 
dred feet.  From  these  originate  most  of  the  lawsuits  as  to  mining 
titles ;  and  if  the  lucky  prospector  develops  a  true  vein,  or  big  60- 
nanza,  he  may  reasonably  expect  to  find  a  dozen  or  more  fellows 
located  on  the  neighboring  outcrops,  each  indulging  a  hope  that  the 
court  will  decide  his  to  be  the  true  location,  or  that  the  owners  will 
buy  him  off. 

But  this  is  only  one  way  in  which  mines  are  found,  though  it  is 
the  most  common  way.  Sometimes  a  blind  lode  is  traced  by  a  faint 
outcrop  in  a  neighboring  gulch ;  sometimes  it  is  found  while  running 
a  tunnel  for  some  other  purpose  or  opening  another  mine  ;  and  oc- 
casionally a  bold  outcrop  is  struck  without  any  indications  below  it 
in  the  way  of  float.  It  is  the  theory  of  geology  that  our  mountains 
were  once  much  higher  than  at  present,  their  tops  having  been  worn 
away.  So,  if  the  crevice  extended  to  the  surface  of  the  original 
mountain — as  it  often  did,  no  doubt — it,  too,  has  worn  away,  and  its 
contents  are  scattered  in  the  drift.  But  where  such  a  crevice  was 

filled  with  hard  volcanic  rock,  the  softer  rock  around  it  wore  away 
36 


562  WESTERN  WILDS. 

and  left  a  dike — a  serrated  ridge  like  the  Devil's  Slide  on  the  Weber. 
This  could  seldom,  if  ever,  happen  with  a  mineral-bearing  vein.  As 
a  rule,  not  only  is  the  outcrop  of  such  a  vein  hidden,  but  the  top  ore 
is  swept  out,  and  nothing  of  great  valuers- found  until  we  attain  some 
depth.  There  is  but  one  way,  then,  of  finding  out  whether  our  loca- 
tion amounts  to  anything :  we  must  dig.  When  we  have  scooped 
out  a  few  cubic  yards  of  rock  and  earth  we  then  have  a  "prospect 
hole,"  and  for  a  few  days — in  some  districts,  according  to  local  law — 
we  can  hold  title  to  it  by  merely  leaving  our  tools  in  it  when  absent. 
If  we  find  good  signs,  however,  we  would  better  post  a 

NOTICE. 

We,  the  undersigned,  of  the  town  of  Fair  Hope,  State  of  Colorado,  this  tenth  day  of 
April,  1882,  claim,  by  right  of  discovery,  one  thousand  five  hundred  (1500)  feet  along 
the  course  of  this  ledge  or  vein  of  mineral-bearing  rock,  with  all  its  dips,  spurs,  angles, 
and  variations,  as  allowed  by  law;  also  one  hundred  and  fifty  (150)  feet  of  surface 
ground  on  each  side  of  the  central  line  of  said  lode. 

Made  April  10th,  1882.  JOSEPH  HOPEFUL, 

LYNN  C.  D'OYLE. 

Ten  years  ago  we  should  have  claimed  and  located  two  hundred  feet 
along  the  lode  for  each  person,  and  "two  hundred  for  discovery;"  so 
we  two  could  have  held  but  six  hundred  feet.  This  was  a  sort  of 
limit,  but  every  district  had  many  local  regulations,  and  in  most  of 
the  territories  prospectors  could  "locate"  as  many  friends  in  their 
claim  as  they  pleased — two  hundred  feet  for  each — by  doing  work  in 
proportion.  Little  by  little  a  system  grew  up  out  of  the  original  chaos 
(see  pp.  476-478) ;  the  territories  first  passed  general  laws,  and  in 
1872  Congress  reduced  the  whole  thing  to  a  very  clear  and  able  code 
of  mining  laws.  This  granted  six  hundred  feet  in  width  and  fifteen 
hundred  in  length,  but  allowed  territories  to  limit  the  width;  and  in 
1874  Colorado  cut  it  down  to  three  hundred  feet.  Local  laws  still 
determine  the  amount  of  work  required  to  hold  a  claim,  and  in  this 
matter  each  district  is  a  law  unto  itself.  For  the  present  our  "Notice" 
gives  sufficient  title,  as  we  want  to  dig  deeper  and  see  what  wre  have. 

The  first  excitement  is  soon  passed,  and  day  after  day  we  pick  and 
blast,  inward  and  downward.  If  we  find  a  crevice,  though  ever  so 
small  and  irregular,  we  dig  on,  carefully  watching  the  "indications." 
We  may  follow  a  "pinching  vein"  for  rods  through  the  solid  rock: 
sometimes  it  shrinks  to  the  thinness  of  a  knife  blade ;  sometimes  we 
see  nothing  more  of  it  than  a  mere  mineral  stain  on  the  wall  of  our 
shaft  or  incline;  again  it  may  widen  to  a  few  inches,  and  yet  again  it 


PROSPECTING  AND  MINING.  563 

may  "  pocket. "  suddenly  in  a  chamber  the  size  of  a  keg,  barrel,  or 
hogshead.  Many  a  prospector  finds  his  vein  at  an  end  for  good  and 
all  in  such  a  pocket.  But  we  do  not,  of  course,  expect  much  near 
the  surface :  all  we  look  for  now  is  good  indications.  If  our  seam 
gains  in  width  on  the  whole,  if  it  slowly  changes  towards  the  perpen- 
dicular, if  denned  walls  show  themselves  Avith  patches  of  "  slicken- 
sides,"  or  even  if  there  is  a  well  marked  line  of  division  between  the 
vein  matter  and  the  enclosing  wall-rock,  we  are  encouraged.  Many 
are  the  alternations  of  hope  and  fear:  to-day  she  widens,  with  a  de- 
nned seam  of  so-so  ore;  to-morrow  we  are  in  the  "cap"  or  pinch, 
and  our  hopes  are  crushed.  We  may  be  in  the  main  vein ;  we  may 
be  in  a  mere  "gash"  or  overflow;  perhaps  we  have  located  on  a  side 
outcrop,  with  the  main  vein  hundreds  of  feet  away ;  and,  worst  of  all, 
we  may  have  fallen  on  a  true  fissure  and  well  defined  vein,  but  full 
of  such  low-grade  ore  that  the  more  we  have  of  it  the  poorer  we  are. 
By  this  time  romance  has  given  place  to  philosophy,  and  we  are 
cool  enough  to  consider  some  ugly  facts.  The  first  is  that  not  one 
location  in  ten  is  ever  sunk  to  a  depth  of  sixty  feet;  that  of  those  so 
far  sunk  not  one  in  ten  proves  a  valuable  mine ;  and  that  of  actual 
mines  not  one  in  ten  is  rich  enough  to  get  excited  about.  The  most  cu- 
rious fact,  however,  is  this  :  the  marvelously  small  proportion  which  the 
precious  metal  bears  to  the  whole  mass  of  the  ore,  the  almost  infinite 
number  of  chances  which  determine  its  presence  or  absence,  and  the 
utter  lack  of  ratio  between  its  chemical,  or  mechanical,  and  its  com- 
mercial value.  For  instance,  if  gold  ore  yields  $40.00  per  ton,  it  is 
very  rich.  But  what  is  $40.00  per  ton?  Only  two  ounces  out  of 
32,000!  That  is,  if  the  one  sixteen-thousandth  part  of  what  you 
hoist  out  is  gold,  your  mine  is  very  rich.  But  scores  of  gold  mines 
are  worked  with  big  profits,  yielding  but  $10.00  per  ton — one  sixty- 
four-thousandth  part  of  the  mass.  Yet  a  mine  in  the  same  place, 
yielding  but  $8.00  per  ton,  would  not  probably  pay  for  working,  the 
$2.00  per  ton  on  the  output  making  all  the  difference  between  profit 
and  loss.  So  this  formula, 

TSTGtsts  minus  J^TT  equals  -g^-^, 

shows  all  the  difference  between  a  mine  of  some  value  and  one  of 
little  or  none.  In  silver  the  disproportion  is  not  so  great,  but  still 
rather  startling.  Thus,  in  Colorado,  fifty  ounces  per  ton  makes  a 
valuable  mine ;  twenty-five  ounces,  in  most  localities,  is  not  worth 
mining  for.  So  you  have  y^g-g-  of  the  mass  as  the  real  difference  be- 
tween rich  and  poor  ore.  Consider  how  very  small  this  difference  is 


564  WESTERN  WILDS. 

in  nature — how  many  chances  in  her  vast  laboratory  may  lessen  the 
proportion  a  little;  then  add  the  fact  that  silver  will  combine  with 
scores  of  minerals,  and  you  will  plainly  see  that  its  presence  in  paying 
quantities  is  the  accident  of  an  accident,  and  that  one  crevice  may  be 
full  of  rich  ore,  and  another  but  a  few  rods  away  too  poor  to  work. 
You  will  see,  too,  that  a  man  is  not  necessarily  rich  because  he  owns 
a  silver  mine,  and  understand  why  it  is  that  so  many  mines,  undoubt- 
edly true  fissures,  are  not  worked.  I  believe  I  can  go  to  the  western 
part  of  Utah  and  buy  a  known  true-fissure  vein,  two  or  three  feet 
wide  and  full  of  ore,  for  a  hundred  dollars.  But  the  ore  is  low-grade 
galena,  wood  and  water  are  scarce  in  the  vicinity,  and  there  is  no 
railroad.  Thus  it  often  happens  that  a  mine  of  no  value  becomes 
valuable  by  improved  transportation  or  the  discovery  of  coal  near  by. 

At  the  depth  of  fifty  feet  we  find  ourselves  in  a  crevice  with  de- 
fined walls,  containing  some  mineral ;  we  go  twenty-five  feet  further, 
and  the  crevice  is  perceptibly  wider,  with  an  occasional  "  selvage " 
between  the  vein  matter  and  the  wall,  and  sometimes  "slickensides"— 
patches  smooth  as  polished  glass,  supposed  to  have  been  caused  by  the 
friction  of  moving  walls  in  the  period  of  fracture.  At  a  hundred 
feet  in  depth  we  are  satisfied  we  have  a  good  mine,  and  begin  to  take 
out  ore  enough  nearly  to  pay  expenses.  The  enterprise  has  cost  us 
some  $1500,  and  we  think  enough  of  it  to  want  our  title  perfected. 
We  recorded  the  location  in  the  District  Recorder's  books  soon  after 
we  put  up  the  notice,  and  have  done  more  than  the  amount  of  work 
the  district  law  requires;  so  our  next  step  is  to  apply  for  a  United 
States  patent,  and  from  this  on  we  must  comply  strictly  with  the  Law 
of  Congress,  approved  May  10,  1872. 

We  first  apply  to  the  Surveyor-General  of  the  State  or  Territory, 
paying  a  fee  of  twenty-five  dollars.  We  must,  if  the  question  is  raised, 
prove  our  citizenship  or  that  we  have  filed  a  declaration  of  intention 
to  become  citizens.  The  proof,  however,  is  not  made  very  onerous, 
our  own  affidavits  generally  being  sufficient.  A  corporation  need  only 
file  its  certificate  as  in  other  cases.  We  also  file  proof  from  the  Dis- 
trict Recorder  that  we  located  and  recorded  as  claimed,  and  satisfy  the 
official  that  we  have  done  work  on  our  claim  to  the  value  of  $500. 

The  Surveyor-General  then,  in  person  or  by  deputy,  surveys  and 
maps  out  for  us  fifteen  hundred  feet  along  the  lode,  and  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  on  each  side  of  it,  unless  our  claim  be  in  Boulder,  Gilpin, 
Clear  Creek,  or  Park  counties,  Colorado.  In  these  four  old  counties 
the  locator  is  limited  to  seventy-five  feet  on  each  side ;  so  a  claim  there 
covers  but  half  as  much  surface  as  elsewhere.  The  law  strictly  pro- 


PROSPECTING  AND  MINING.  565 

vides  that  the  end  boundaries  must  be  parallel  to  each  other  and  at 
right  angles  to  the  central  line ;  so  a  full  claim,  outside  of  the  above 
counties,  is  a  perfect  parallelogram — three  hundred  by  fifteen  hundred 
feet,  or  ten  acres  and  about  a  fifth;  and  for  this  the  Government 
charges  five  dollars  per  acre.  The  Surveyor-General  must  then  make 
a  complete  plat  of  the  claim. 

We  go  next  to  the  Register  of  the  Land  Office  of  our  State  or  Ter- 
ritory. We  post  one  copy  of  the  surveyor's  plat  on  a  post  or  rock, 
conspicuously,  on  the  ground  we  claim ;  another  copy  we  file  with  the 
Register,  with  the  field-notes,  and  the  affidavits  of  two  competent  per- 
sons that  we  have  posted  notice  on  the  claim.  The  Register  then  enters 
the  case  for  record,  and  publishes  notice  of  the  application  as  often  as 
once  a  week  for  at  least  sixty  days,  in  the  newspaper  nearest  to  such 
claim.  He  must  also  post  notice  of  our  application  in  his  office;  and, 
by  the  way,  we  must  also  pay  him  some  fees,  and  pay  for  the  adver- 
tising. If  no  adverse  claimant  appears  in  response  to  this  advertising, 
all  such  are  barred ;  it  is  assumed  that  our  claim  is  first  class,  and  wre 
go  higher. 

But  if  there  is  one  chance  in  ten,  some  fellow  will  be  certain  to 
claim  that  our  mine  belongs  to  him.  He  may  file  his  claim  under 
oath,  and,  within  thirty  days  after  so  doing,  begin  suit  in  any  court 
with  real  estate  jurisdiction.  If  he  fails  to  do  so  within  the  time,  he 
is  forever  barred ;  if  he  acts  promptly,  the  case  goes  to  trial  the  same 
as  any  other.  If  we  gain  it,  we  file  a  copy  of  the  judgment  with  the 
Register  of  the  Land  Office,  and  proceed  as  before.  But  all  this  time 
we  retain  possession  of  the  mine,  and  take  out  pay  ore — if  there  is 
any. 

Having  gotten  rid  of  the  man  who  tried  to  "jump"  our  mine,  we  pay 
some  more  fees,  you  observe,  and  the  Register  certifies  all  the  papers 
to  the  Commissioner-General  of  the  Land  Office,  at  Washington,  who 
thereupon  issues  to  us  a  patent,  and  we  are  owners  in  fee  simple  of  the 
claim  therein  described.  We,  or  our  assigns,  can  then  hold  it  for  all 
time,  no  matter  whether  we  work  it  or  let  it  lie  idle.  A  patent  costs 
from  $125  to  $175,  all  the  fees  in  mining  districts  being  very  heavy. 
The  holder  can  follow  his  vein  downward  wherever  it  goes,  but  he 
/must  not  go  outside  of  his  end  lines.  The  following  general  princi- 
ples of  mining  law,  either  as  laid  down  in  the  statutes  of  Congress  and 
the  Territories  or  decided  by  the  Land  Office  Department  and  courts, 
•  are  worth  noting : 

All  lands  of  the  United  States  containing  gold,  silver,  lead,  tin, 
copper,  or  cinnabar,  in  workable  quantities,  are  mineral  lands,  and 


566  WESTERN  WILDS. 

not  open  to  homestead  or  preemption  entry.  Nor  can  they  be  sold 
in  quantities  as  other  lands,  nor  does  a  land  grant  convey  them  to  a 
railroad  or  other  grantee.  Nor  is  any  distinction  made  by  Govern- 
ment between  its  surveyed  and  unsurveyed  mineral  lands. 

In  cases  of  doubt  or  dispute  the  law  leans  to  the  side  of  the  pros- 
pector. The  decisions  of  the  Department  bear  strongly  against  other 
than  miners'  titles  to  lands  supposed  to  be  mineral,  it  being  the  de- 
clared policy  of  the  United  States  to  encourage  mining  development 
in  all  proper  ways.  (See  decision  of  the  Commissioner-General  in 
regard  to  the  town  site  of  Dead  wood,  Dakota.) 

Land  once  surveyed  and  thrown  open  to  settlement  will  be  with- 
drawn from  market  at  any  time  before  vested  rights  accrue,  upon 
proof  that  it  is  mineral-bearing. 

That  land  is  within  a  known  mineral  region,  is  held  presumptive 
proof  that  it  is  mineral  land;  the  burden  of  proof  is  on  those  who 
seek  to  show  that  it  is  not. 

The  miners  of  each  district  may  make  local  laws  not  inconsistent 
with  those  of  the  United  States,  or  of  the  State  or  Territory;  and 
these  local  laws  will  be  enforced  by  the  courts.  Similarly  a  State 
or  Territory  may  make  any  laws  not  inconsistent  with  the  ownership 
of  mineral  lands  by  the  United  States. 

When  a  patent  has  been  granted,  a  mine  is  real  estate  in  fee  simple, 
and  subject  to  local  tax,  lien,  mortgage,  and  execution,  the  same  as 
other  real  estate.  Before  a  patent  is  granted,  the  title  is  still  in  the 
United  States ;  the  miner  has  but  a  possessory  right,  and,  in  strict- 
ness of  law,  only  his  improvements  could  be  taxed. 

Where  a  tunnel  is  run  for  the  development  of  a  lode  or  for  pros- 
pecting, the  owners  thereof  have  the  right  to  all  veins  or  lodes  cut 
by  it,  and  all  within  three  thousand  feet  from  the  starting-point  of 
the  tunnel  and  lying  on  its  line,  not  previously  known  to  exist;  and 
locations  within  such  limit  by  other  parties,  after  the  tunnel  has  been 
commenced,  are  invalid.  But  to  secure  such  rights  the  tunnel  must 
be  driven  with  reasonable  diligence ;  and  a  cessation  of  work  thereon 
for  six  months  forfeits  the  right  to  undiscovered  veins  on  its  line. 

If  applicants  for  patents  complain  that  fees  and  publication  charges 
are  exorbitant,  the  Commissioner-General  has  power  to  limit  such 
charges,  or  to  designate  another  paper  than  the  one  first  selected  by 
the  Register. 

Where  two  or  more  veins,  separate  at  the  surface,  run  together 
below,  the  oldest  title  holds  the  property.  ,  Where  two  veins  cross, 


PROSPECTING  AND  MINING.  567 

the  older  title  takes  the  ore  at  the  intersection ;  but  the  other  has 
the  right  of  way  across  the  space  for  the  purpose  of  working. 

The  State  or  Territory  may  make  all  needful  rules  for  safe  and 
healthful  working  of  mines,  easement,  drainage,  etc. 

All  parties  along  a  stream  have  equal  original  rights  to  use  of  the 
water  ;t  but  priority  of  use  or  possession  becomes  a  vested  right,  of 
which  the  party  can  not  be  deprived  even  by  those  who  locate  above 
him. 

The  status  of  all  mineral  lands  taken  up  before  May  10th,  1872,  is 
in  nowise  changed  by  the  statute ;  they  remain  as  rights  therein  ac- 
crued under  local  or  territorial  law. 

Prospectors  can  not  exercise  too  much  care  in  denning  their  loca- 
tions at  the  outset,  that  the  same  may  be  distinctly  traced  on  the 
ground  and  its  boundaries  easily  marked.  The  United  States  statute 
is  also  specific  in  requiring  that  all  records  of  locations  shall  contain 
the  names  of  the  locators,  the  date  of  the  location,  and  such  descrip- 
tion of  the  claim  by  reference  to  natural  objects  or  permanent  mon- 
uments as  will  identify  it.  One  should  also  particularly  set  forth 
the  distance  of  his  claim  each  way  from  his  center  stake,  and  bound 
it  if  possible  by  a  gulch,  'stream,  or  prominent  rock,  and  specify 
carefully  its  bearing  from  or  towards,  and  distance  from,  any  adja- 
cent lode.  /- 

Work  to  the  value  of  at  least  $100  per  year  must  be  done  on  a 
claim  to  hold  it  by  mere  possessory  right. 

Now  that  we  have  our  mine,  let  us  decide  what  kind  of  a  one  it  is/ 
and  then  how  we  would  better  work  it. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

MINING   FORTUNES   AND   MISFORTUNES. 

IN  the  closing  months  of  1878  the  white  nomads  of  the  West  were 
greatly  excited  by  reports  of  a  new  Eldorado  and  a  great  mining  city 
modestly  called  Lead-viUe.  Soon  all  the  journals  were  spotted  with 
stirring  accounts  of  the  Magic  City.  All  old  similes  were  exhausted 
and  a  hundred  new  ones  invented :  it  was  the  future  metropolis  astride 
the  Mother  Lode  of  the  world ;  it  had  sprung  up  as  if  from  the  touch 
of  Aladdin's  lamp;  it  seemed  as  if  built  by  genii  in  a  night;  it  was 
Ophir  and  Lydia  and  Potosi,  Tyre  and  San  Francisco,  all  in  one. 
All  around  it  the  rock-ribbed  hills  were  said  to  be  thick-set  with  bot- 
tomless lodes  of  argentiferous  ore.  All  this  and  much  more.  Of 
course  the  old  campaigner  knew  that  at  least  half  of  this  was  the  nat- 
ural gush  of  the  editor  whose  bright  home  is  in  the  setting  sun,  etc.  ; 
nevertheless  a  great  longing  grew  upon  me  to  mingle  once  more  in 
such  stirring  scenes.  But,  alas!  business  and. domestic  cares  forbade; 
so  I  confided  my  interest  in  the  sight-seeing  to  my  friend  and  rela- 
tive, C.  K.  Bright,  Esq.,  and  the  purely  narrative  portion  of  this  chap- 
ter is  from  his  diary. 

February  10th,  1879,  says  the  diary,  I  bought  of  the  Indianapolis, 
Bloomington  and  Western  Railroad  a  ticket  from  Covington,  Indiana, 
to  Denver  via  Pueblo,  for  the  low  price  of  $44.10.  Including  all 
expenses  for  food  and  rest,  the  total  cost  is  less  than  $60.00:  this  for 
a  journey  which  once  occupied  at  least  two  months,  and  required  an 
outfit  of  two  or  three  hundred  dollars.  Steel  and  steam  have  brought 
the  Far  West  almost  to  our  doors.  At  10  o'clock  that  evening  we 
crossed  the  Mississippi  at  Quincy,  and  at  9:15,  next  morning  landed 
in  Kansas  City.  Thence  we  departed  at  11  A.  M.,  on  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  line,  stopping  for  dinner  at  Topeka,  sixty-six 
miles  out.  All  the  way,  and  for  seventy-five  miles  beyond  Topeka, 
the  country  teems  with  every  variety  of  agricultural  products;  pleas- 
ant homes  and  thriving  villages  cheer  the  traveler's  eye,  and,  except 
the  general  air  of  freshness  and  smartness,  one  sees  no  signs  of  a  new 
West.  It  is,  rather,  a  transplanted  New  England. 

(568; 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  569 

Darkness  found  us  at  Osage  City,  and  to  us  the  line  between  Kan- 
sas and  Colorado  is  even  less  than  an  idea:  we  went  to  sleep  in  one 
and  woke  in  the  other.  But  the  scene  had  greatly  changed:  out  of 
a  settled  and  cultivated  valley,  into  an  apparently  boundless  waste 

where 

"The  dewy  ground  was  dark  and  cold; 
Behind  all  gloomy  to  behold; 
And  stepping  westward  seemed  to  be 
A  kind  of  heavenly  destiny. 
I  liked  the  greeting;  'twas  a  sound 
Of  something  without  place  or  bound, 
And  seemed  to  give  me  spiritual  right 
To  seek  beyond  for  regions  bright." 

In  summer  the  scene  is  much  more  animated,  for  the  entire  valley 
is  then  occupied  by  stockmen,  who  drive  their  cattle  farther  east  in  the 
winter.  Fresh  beef  is  now  eaten  in  London  which  was  grown  and 
fattened  in  this  valley,  while  much  of  the  corn  and  wheat  produced 
in  the  Kansas  half  of  it  finds  a  market  in  the  mines  and  cities  of 
Colorado.  We  follow  up  the  gently  winding  valley  of  the  Arkansas, 
finding  no  perceptible,  change,  as  eastern  Colorado  climate  and  scenery 
extend  far  down  into  Kansas. 

At  La  Junta,  five  hundred  and  fifty-five  miles  from  Kansas  City,  a 
branch  road  strikes  south-west  to  Trinidad,  and  thence  on  to  Otero — 
the  first  railroad  station  ever  established  in  New  Mexico — and  beyond 
that  is  stretching  towards  the  Pacific.  At  late  dinner-time  we  reach 
Pueblo,  six  hundred  and  eighteen  miles  from  the  Missouri;  and  still 
we  are  forty  miles  from  Caflon  City,  the  end  of  railroading  for  the 
present. 

Pueblo  is  close  down  to  the  river,  in  the  Arkansas  Valley,  only 
four  thousand  seven  hundred  and  three  feet  above  the  sea,  and,  like 
every  other  Colorado  town  in  the  valleys,  is  "  highly  recommended 
for  pulmonary  diseases."  Here  we  rested  a  day,  to  get  our  "  second 
wind,"  then  took  the  afternoon  train  and  ran  rapidly  up  the  valley  to 
Caiion  City,  five  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty  feet  above  the  sea. 
And  now  I  begin  to  feel  the  altitude — just  a  little — and  various  symp- 
toms warn  me  that  I  had  better  wait  here  a  few  days  before  entering 
on  the  trying  stage-coach  ride  to  Leadville. 

Cafion  City  is  situated  on  both  sides  of  the  Arkansas,  which  is  here 
a  noticeably  larger  stream  than  it  is  a  hundred  miles  farther  down — 
though  a  mere  creek  compared  with  its  volume  in  Arkansas.  There 
are  mountains  north,  south,  and  west  of  the  town,  but  to  the  east  the 
view  is  open.  To  the  eastern  eye  the  valley  seems  narrow,  though 


570  WESTERN  WILDS. 

there  is  considerable  good  land  near  by  and  between  here  and  Pueblo. 
There  is,  however,  hardly  any  such  thing  as  agriculture  in  Colorado; 
it  is  horticulture  rather,  farming  on  a  small  scale,  except  where  there 
is  meadow  land.  Hence  to  Rosita,  county  seat  of  Ouster  City,  it 
is  thirty  miles  south;  and  a  little  beyond  that  is  the  wonderful  Silver 
Cliff,  where  the  first  house  was  erected  the  first  week  in  September, 
1878,  and  before  Christmas  there  were  hundreds,  and  the  population 
is  now  at  least  five  thousand!  Such  is  the  suddenness  of  things  in  a 
mining  country. 

As  Cafion  City  is  shut  in  by  the  hills  from  the  rudest  wintry  blasts, 
nestling  close  in  to  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  it  is  regarded 
as  the  best  winter  resort  in  the  State  for  invalids.  To  this  add 
the  iron  and  soda  springs,  the  hot  mineral  baths,  and  the  wonderful 
scenery  of  the  Royal  Gorge  and  Grape  Creek  Cafion,  and  no  more 
need  be  said. 

We  spent  a  day  of  delight  in  Grape  Creek  Canon,  which  is  the 
first  stage  on  the  road  to  Silver  Cliff.  As  we  wound  around  the 
curves  of  the  road  it  seemed  at  every  turn  we  were  shut  in;  but 
following  up  the  stream  we  found  the  walls  opening  on  new  scenes 
of  grandeur.  The  rocks  are  basaltic,  and  reared  in  columns,  re- 
minding one  greatly  of  the  pictures  of  the  Giant's  Causeway.  They 
rise  in  grape-colored  pillars  to  a  height  of  three  or  four  hundred 
feet,  and  are  often  capped  with  a  sort  of  cornice  which  gives  an 
odd  resemblance  to  architectural  designs.  In  many. places  the  cafion 
is  so  narrow  that  road  and  stream  occupy  its  entire  width ;  and 
since  the  railway  to  Silver  Cliff  is  completed,  it  gives  a  rare  op- 
portunity for  a  romantic  ride.  Temple  Cafion  opens  from  Grape 
Creek,  through  an  archway  of  rock  wonderfully  like  that  of  the 
Natural  Bridge  in  Virginia. 

The  McClure  House,  our  head-quarters,  is  full  of  excited  human- 
ity. All  the  restless  spirits  of  the  world  seem  crowding  on  to 
Leadville,  Gunnison,  Silver  Cliff,  or  San  Juan.  Sanguine  "pilgrims" 
assure  us  that  all  the  "  science,  falsely  so  called,"  has  been  upset 
by  the  new  discoveries  at  Silver  Cliff;  for  there  is  just  as  rich 
ore  there  in  one  kind  of  rock  as  another.  "  You  don't  even 
have  to  find  a  lode  or  crevice  to  get  ore,  and  the  biggest  green- 
horn this  side  of  New  Jersey  is  just  as  apt  to  strike  a  bonanza 
as  the  oldest  professor  of  mineralogy."  And  verily,  late  develop- 
ments there  have  about  proved  this  boast  true.  The  bordering 
mountain  is  appropriately  called  Greenhorn  Range,  as  if  in  com- 
pliment to  that  class  of  prospectors.  And,  after  finding  rich  ore 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES. 


571 


almost  everywhere  except  where  the  old  heads  told  them  to  look 
for  it,  the  lucky  ones  jocosely  proposed  to  install  a  spectacled  burro 
over  their  budding  school  of  mining  science.  But  of  this  remark- 
able place,  more  anon. 

We  devoted  the  whole 
day,  February  7th,  to  seeing 
the  wonders  of  the  Grand 
Canon  and  the  Royal  Gorge ; 
and  surely  whole  weeks 
would  be  scant  time  to  enjoy 
fully  the  awful  grandeur, 
the  almost  frightful  sublimity 
of  this  place.  In  ages  past 
the  Arkansas  has  cut  a  nar- 
row way  nearly  twenty-five 
hundred  feet  deep,  directly 
through  the  mountain ;  and 
far  down  in  the  depths,  for 
many  a  rod  where  sun- 
light never  penetrates,  the 
foaming  water  frets  its  way 
among  the  fallen  rocks  which 
choke  its  bed.  Many  pre- 
fer to  go  around  by  the 
old  route,  thirteen  miles 
over  the  high  levels,  to 
get  an  opportunity  to  see 
the  gorge  from  above ;  but 
we  chose  the  walk  directly 
up  the  canon,  as  the  way 
had  been  opened  and  made 
tolerably  safe  by  the  pio- 
neer parties  of  the  Atchi- 
son,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe 
Road. 

This  rock-bound  river  channel  was  known  to  Spanish  missionaries 
in  1642;  but  it  is  claimed  that  no  human  being  passed  through 
it  before  1870.  The  distant  hills  encroach  very  gradually  on  the 
river  as  we  go  up,  till  at  last  they  shut  it  in  between  jagged  and 
almost  perpendicular  cliffs  two  thousand  feet  in  height.  One  can 
not  see  the  top  above  him  for  the  overhanging  walls;  but  glancing 


NIGHT  SCENE  IN  THE  CANON. 


572  WESTERN  WILDS. 

up  on  the  other  side,  the  sight  is  sufficient  to  give  some  people  the 
vertigo.  At  last  we  reach  the  Royal  Gorge,  which  is  over  a  mile  in 
length,  and  is,  indeed,  only  an  enormous  tunnel  two  thousand  feet 
under  the  solid  rock,  with  a  slight  crack  opened  to  the  sky -and  sun- 
light above.  The  canon  walls  above  the  stream  recede  from  each 
other  for  one  thousand  feet,  then  slowly  approach  to  within  thirty-five 
feet,  making  an  enormous  curve  like  the  two  sides  of  a  (). 

Since  the  above  was  written  the  railroad  has  forced  its  way  through 
this  chasm.  The  original  surveys  were  made  while  the  stream  was 
frozen  over;  then  workmen  were  lowered  from  above  and  a  foot- 
hold blasted  out  of  the  cliif,  and  then  rock  masses  of  hundreds  of 
tons  were  blown  out  with  dynamite  and  tumbled  into  the  river  bed. 
May  7th,  1879,  the  first  passenger  train  passed  through  the  gorge,  and 
then  came — a  lawsuit!  The  merits  of  the  case  need  not  be  discussed, 
but  the  company  whose  energy  opened  the  way  was  not  permitted  to 
enjoy  it.  After  a  tedious  suit,  and  riots  and  seizures  which  amounted 
to  civil  war,  the  courts,  early  in  1880,  gave  judgment  for  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  Railway  Company ;  and  in  April  of  that  year,  on 
payment  of  construction  costs,  that  company  took  possession  of  the 
line.  It  at  once  hurried  on  the  work  and  completed  the  road  to 
Leadville  that  summer.  And  now  the  traveler  may  reach  Leadville 
or  Silver  Cliff*  in  the  most  comfortable  of  passenger  cars. 

But  we  had  to  stage  it,  and,  in  the  early  morning  of  February  18th, 
took  seat  in  one  of  Barlow  and  Sanderson's  coaches,  paying  $14.00 
fare,  or  about  eleven  cents,  a  mile,  for  the  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
six  miles  to  Leadville.  The  morning  was  stinging  cold,  and  the  ice 
and  snow  forbade  all  enjoyment  of  scenery.  All  we  note  is  a  bewil- 
dering succession  of  mountain,  valley,  and  timbered  slope;  the  coach 
laboring  away  from  the  Arkansas  and  uphill  for  hours,  and  then  com- 
ing thundering  down  to  it  again  wherever  the  valley  was  broad  enough 
for  a  road,  till  we  reached  Bayles's  Ranche,  where  we  .concluded  to 
stop  for  the  night. 

At  Cleora,  a  station  on  our  line,  coaches  start  on  branch  lines  for 
Ouray  and  Saguache.  N.  B. — They  spell  this  name  right,  but  pro- 
nounce it  Sowahchay !  But  it's  all  the  same  in  Spanish.  By  the 
same  diabolical  process  of  lingual  gymnastics  they  write  the  name  of 
the  junction  where  the  New  Mexican  branch  of  the  railway  starts, 
La  Junta,  and  call  it  Lah  Hoontay.  So,  too,  they  call  San  Juan, 
San  Wahn;  Juanita,  Wahneeta;  Albuquerque,  Albookairkay ;  and 
San  Luis,  San  Looeece.  They  will  even  laugh  at  a  pilgrim  who 
pronounces  them  as  they  are  spelled.  But  it 's  a  way  they  have  out 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  573 

here;  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  there  is  no  law  against  your  staying 
in  Indiana. 

As  soon  as  light  was  sufficient  we  departed  from  Bayles's  Ranche, 
and  soon  were  in  the  midst  of  scenery  so  grand  that  we  lost  all  sense 
of  danger,  though  the  abrupt  turns,  sharp  precipices,  and  yawning 
chasms  along  the  way  were  enough  to  shake  the  firmest  nerves.  Many 
a  time  it  seemed  to  me  the  coach  horses  were  taking  us  at  full  run 
over  a  precipice,  into  a  chasm  of  unknown  depth;  but  just  at  the  right 
moment  the  driver  dropped  his  weight  upon  the 'brake,  the  vehicle 
"slowed,"  a  turn  opened  to  right  or  left,  and  we  glided  gracefully 
around  a  jutting  corner  of  rock,  into  a  broad  gallery,  and  then  down, 
down,  down  along  the  winding  dug-way  to  the  stream  Avhich  we  had 
left,  it  might  be  hours  before,  to  toil  up  the  mountain.  At  last,  at  9  p.  M., 
we  reached  Leadville  to  find  the  whole  city  illuminated.  It  was  not 
in  honor  of  anybody,  however,  but  to  thaw  the  ground  for  digging 
to  lay  water-pipes.  We  then  learned  that  the  ground  in  this  remark- 
able city  freezes  almost  every  night  in  the  year.  They  had  piled  long 
winrows  of  wood  in  the  street,  set  it  on  fire,  and  dug  a  ditch  for  the 
water-pipes  under  the  bed  of  hot  embers !  And  this  they  would  have 
had  to  do  in  any  month  in  the  year,  except  possibly  July  and  August. 
With  this  startling  information  we  tumbled  into  Blanket  Bay  and  for 
ten  hours  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  and  weary.  Enjoyed  it  none  the 
less  though  the  small  room  contained  fourteen  beds  filled  with  other 
weary  pilgrims. 

February  20th,  awoke  with  strange  sensations:  giddiness,  head  too 
big  entirely,  and  limbs  rather  slow  in  obeying  the  motions  of  the  will. 
First  attempt  to  run  about  town  proved  a  total  failure,  for  a  painful 
fluttering  in  the  temple  and  tremor  about  the  heart  warned  me 
to  go  slow.  Nor  did  those  symptoms  leave  me  entirely  for  a  week. 
Leadville  is  ten  thousand  two  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the 
pilgrim  should  be  in  no  hurry  about  exercise.  Fortunately  the 
tendency  to  rest  is  generally  too  strong  to  be  resisted;  laziness  be- 
comes a  virtue,  and  one  can  sleep  half  the  time  and  lounge  the  other 
half.  But  when  I  got  my  mountain  legs  on  the  days  were  too  short 
to  view  the  novelties.  My  first  climb  was  to  the  Little  Pittsburg 
Mine,  of  which  one-fourth  had  just  been  sold  for  $262,500.  The 
lucky  seller  was  a  poor  man  a  year  before,  but  on  receipt  of  his  cash 
he  proceeded  immediately  to  Silver  Cliff  and  reinvested  it — so  he  may 
be  a  poor  man  again  in  due  time.  The  Little  Pittsburg  was  said  to 
be  producing  $10,000  a  day  when  in  full  work. 

Day  after  day  I  gained  in  lung  power,  and  climbed  to  higher  mines; 


574  WESTERN  WILDS. 

and  night  after  night  enjoyed  seeing  the  motley  crowd  on  the  streets. 
Nothing  surprised  me  so  much  as  the  enormous  quantities  of  mail  re- 
ceived and  the  crowd  at  the  post-office,  especially  on  Sundays.  Then 
one  often  has  to  wait  in  line  an  hour  or  two  for  his  chance.  It  would 
seem  that  miners  spend  all  their  spare  time  in  reading  or  answering 
letters.  But  there  is  a  good  sized  theater  crowded  nightly,  and  scores 
of  popular  resorts,  all  of  which  seem  well  patronized  Day  after  day 
the  town  is  excited  by  new  reports  of  rich  discoveries  in  the  mount- 
ains, "a  little  further  on."  And  after  a  month's  experience  of  this 
sort  of  thing,  and  diligent  study  of  the  formation,  it  seems  fair  to 
drop  the  narrative  style  and  give  the  reader  some  condensed  facts. 

Come  with  us  now,  in  the  opening  of  1882,  to  Leadville.  You  need 
not  stage  it  as  we  did,  for  you  can  lie  back  in  a  Horton  reclining- 
chair  and  view  the  scenery  as  you  come,  on  either  of  two  railroads. 
The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  comes  directly  up  the  Arkansas  from 
Pueblo,  the  Denver  and  South  Park  in  a  general  south-west  direction 
from  Denver;  and  whichever  one  you  come  by,  you  will  think  the 
scenery  the  finest  in  the  world — till  you  return  by  the  other.  You 
will  land  in  a  city  of  fifteen  thousand  or  twenty  thousand  people,  with 
large  hotels,  immense  wholesale  and  retail  stores,  an  elegant  opera- 
house,  with  good  society,  an  odd  compound  of  that  of  Chicago  and 
San  Francisco,  and  some  of  the  worst  society  in  the  world — if  you 
look  for  it. 

Leadville  lies  on  the  east  side  of,  and  about  three  miles  from  the 
Arkansas  River,  on  a  gently  sloping  plain,  or  plateau,  cut  through 
on  the  south  by  the  famous  California  Gulch,  walled  in  on  the  east 
by  the  world-renowned  Freyer  and  Carbonate  Hills,  which  are  in  turn 
overshadowed  by  the  frowning  peaks  of  the  Mosquito  Range.  On  the 
north  the  main  portion  of  the  city  is  flanked  by  an  elevation  known 
as  Capital  Hill,  upon  wrhich  some  of  the  finest  residences  in  the  city 
are  located.  Looking  west,  the  valley  of  the  Arkansas  is  seen,  beyond 
which  towers  the  majestic  Mount  Massive,  whose  snowy  head  is  often 
veiled  with  clouds.  Surely  no  city  could  be  more  beautiful  for  situ- 
ation. 

Near  the  city— indeed,  throughout  the  district  this  side  of  the 
divide — the  geological  formation  is  very  irregular.  The  basis  is 
granite,  which  crops  out  frequently.  All  along  the  valley  of  the 
Arkansas  indications  of  extensive  Silurian  formations  are  quite  abun- 
dant. However,  the  strata  have  been  so  broken  up  by  volcanic 
action  and  so  extensively  converted  into  metamorphic  rock,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  determine  the^extent  of  the  original  formations.  So  far 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  575 

as  the  mines  have  developed,  there  seems  to  be  no  regularity  or  system 
whatever,  but  all  is  in  a  confused  mass.  Mines  that  are  but  a  few 
hundred  feet  apart  strike  very  different  rock  deposits.  There  is  no 
uniformity  in  the  thickness  of  the  "  wash,"  or  of  the  deposits  of  lime- 
stone, porphyry,  and  carbonates.  One  mine  will  strike  valuable  car- 
bonates a  few  feet  from  the  surface,  while  the  mine  next  to  it  may  go 
down  hundreds  of  feet  and  find  little  or  no  paying  ore.  In  some 
mines  limestone  is  found  in  abundance;  others  encounter  extensive 
deposits  of  porphyry.  As  a  rule,  the  carbonates  are  found  below  the 
porphyry.  These  carbonate  deposits  are  not  at  all  uniform  in  extent. 
Sometimes  they  contain  only  a  ton  or  two ;  and,  again,  there  will  be 
a  hundred  tons  or  more  in  one  deposit.  The  silver-bearing  ores  also 
vary  greatly  in  kind.  Some  are  soft  or  pulverized,  called  sand  car- 
bonates; some  are  hard,  and  carry  a  large  per  cent,  of  iron;  while 
others  are  almost  wholly  composed  of  galena,  with  a  small  per  cent, 
of  silver;  still  others  are  rich  in  chlorides  and  sulphurets. 

Nothing  like  a  true  fissure  vein  has  been  found  in  Freyer  or 
Carbonate  Hills;  but  in  the  gulches  over  the  divide,  many  rich  veins 
have  been  discovered.  These  veins  vary  from  one  foot  to  six  feet  in 
thickness,  and  are  often  rich  in  galena.  Little  of  horn  or  wire 
silver  has  been  discovered  in  the  deposit  mines,  though  some  has  been 
found  in  fissure  veins.  During  the  past  season  some  very  valuable 
gold-bearing  veins  have  been  discovered  near  Leadville.  It  is  be- 
lieved that  there  are  many  rich  gold-bearing  lodes  yet  undiscovered 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Leadville.  Several  millions  of  dollars 
in  gold  dust  have  been  washed  from  the  gravel  beds  of  California 
Gulch — paying  dirt  having  been  found  there  twenty  years  ago,  and 
it  is  very  probable  that  the  gold  dust  has  been  washed  down 
from  veins  of  gold-bearing  rock  in  the  sides  of  the  neighboring 
mountains. 

Some  suppose  that  there  is  a  deposit  of  carbonates  underlying  all 
the  country  about  here,  which  may  be  struck  if  the  shaft  is  sunk  deep 
enough.  But  the  more  probable  opinion  is  that  these  deposits  lie  here 
and  there  with  no  regularity.  It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the 
search  for  carbonates  in  the  foot-hills  about  Leadville  is  one  of  luck 
or  haphazard  entirely.  The  miner  has  no  indications  to  guide  him, 
but  digs  a  hole  hoping  to  strike  it.  Not  more  than  one  in  one 
hundred  of  the  holes  thus  dug  has  yielded  well.  So  mining  about 
Leadville,  at  the  start  at  least,  is  simply  prospecting  on  a  large  and 
very  expensive  scale.  But  when  they  do  strike  it,  it  is  marvelous 
how  the  wealth  rolls  out. 


576 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


The  following  table  is  carefully  compiled  from  the  furnace  returns 
and  shipments,  and  shows  within  a  very  few  dollars  the  yield  of  Lead- 
ville  mines  for  1880: 


MONTHS. 

Pounds  of 
Jiullion. 

Ounces  of 
Silver. 

Ounces  of 
Gold. 

Tons  of  Ore 
shipped. 

Value  of 
Silver. 

> 

lies 

^. 

il 

l-s 

ll 

fej 

r: 

^ 

S£ 
g^ 

January  

5  167,429 

1,045,356 

154 

570 

$1,194,509 

$3,080 

5269(546 

$148900 

$1  616  035 

5  042  719 

808  758 

169 

610 

916,292 

3390 

292  742 

173  181 

1  385605 

March  

5,040,238 

743,403 

"Jl 

841,916 

2,120 

293,925 

166  132 

1  304  093 

April  

4,953,673 

636  716 

4 

'925 

724,320 

80 

246932 

109  394 

1  080726 

May  

6,177,660 

864,388 

4 

873 

986,164 

80 

282.737 

109683 

1  ,378  664 

June  

4,227,828 

619,489 

887 

720,281 

193,005 

126  997 

1  040283 

July  

4  598  738 

676  227 

300 

664 

750,367 

6000 

206932 

77  885 

1  041  184 

August  

6,998,039 

769.248 

350 

1,162 

878,989 

7,1100 

349,799 

128391 

1  364  179 

7  524,747 

848  715 

251 

2  937 

959,027 

5060 

375,365 

217  147 

1  556599 

October  
November  

6,443.950 
5,601,982 
5  866  851 

757,366 
625.853 
583  880 

196 
12 
157 

1,690 
817 
BO 

858,365 
708,156 
656,783 

3,824 
240 
3  1-10 

298,721 
263,431 
262  372 

127,453 
68,200 
7000 

1,288,463 
1,040.027 
9°9  295 

Total  

67,691  854 

8,979  399 

1  688 

12470 

$10,195,169 

$34,014 

$3,335,507 

$1,460,363 

$15  025  153 

An  aggregate  of  over  fifteen  million  dollars  in  one  year  is  truly 
astonishing.  The  proved  returns  and  work  done  in  particular  mines 
are  even  more  remarkable.  In  the  Chrysolite  Mine  alone  over  twelve 
thousand  linear  feet  of  drifts,  raises,  and  winzes,  were  made  during  the 
year,  and  in  eight  of  the  Freyer  Hill  mines  over  seventy-five  thousand 
linear  feet  of  drifts,  levels,  winzes,  and  raises,  were  made,  representing 
about  two  million  cubic  feet.  Still  larger  sections  of  promising  terri- 
tory remain  to  be  opened,  and  not  one-tenth  of  the  hill  has  even  been 
explored.  Less  than  eight  acres  are  stoped,  and  about  twenty  acres 
are  opened,  and  thousands  of  tons  of  rich  mineral  are  exposed  to 
view  in  nearly  every  mine  on  the  hill.  On  Carbonate  Hill  a  very 
large  amount  of  development  work  has  also  been  done  during  the 
year,  but  less  ore  has  been  taken  out.  The  mines  located  on  the  car- 
bonate break  show  from  the  Catalpa  northward  an  almost  inexhausti- 
ble supply  of  medium  grade  lead  ores  that  promises  to  supply  the 
smelters  of  the  camp  for  years  to  come. 

Large  bodies  of  fine  smelting  ores  have  been  discovered  in  the 
Florence,  Brian  Boru,  and  Columbia  mines,  on  the  south  side  of  Cal- 
ifornia Gulch;  in  the  Big  Chief,  St.  Mary's,  Henriette,  and  Yankee 
Doodle  mines,  on  Carbonate  Hill ;  in  the  mines  of  Little  Ellen  Hill, 
and  the  Uncle  Sam,  Little  Johnnie,  A.  Y.,  and  other  mines  on  Breecc 
and  Iron  hills.  Yankee  Hill  has  disclosed  ore  bodies  recently,  that, 
in  the  opinion  of  many  prominent  mining  men,  will  soon  make  it  a 
formidable  rival  of  Freyer  Hill.  Recent  developments  have  shown 
some  of  the  richest  chloride  bodies  ever  discovered  in  the  vicinity  of 
Leadville  to  exist  in  this  hill,  and  its  future  possibilities  are  beyond 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  577 

estimation.  In  addition  to  these  discoveries  of  smelting  ores,  a  score 
of  rich  strikes  of  free  milling  silver-bearing  and  gold-bearing  ores  and 
quartz  were  made.  Some  of  these  are  located  on  Ball  Mountain  and 
Breece  Hill,  and  give  magnificent  returns  in  gold,  while  other  rich 
silver-bearing  quartz  ledges  have  been  opened  on  Yankee  Hill  and  in 
Colorado  Gulch. 

The  history  of  Leadville  is  a  Rocky  Mountain  romance  in  real  life. 
When  the  first  invasion  struck  the  territory,  the  eager  gold  hunters 
prospected  every  gulch  on  the  eastern  slope;  and  in  the  spring  of 
1860,  parties  of  Gilpin  County  miners  crossed  South  Park  and  dis- 
covered rich  placers  on  the  head-waters  of  the  Arkansas.  These  were 
so  much  like  the  old  placers  of  California  that  they  named  the  local- 
ity California  Gulch,  and  in  a  few  months  a  continuous  line  of  claims 
and  cabins  stretched  along  the  Gulch  thirty-three  thousand  feet.  One 
claim  for  awhile  yielded  $1,000  per  day,  and  a  single  firm  took  out 
$60,000.  They  named  the  principal  settlement  Oro,  and  a  few  of  its 
cabins  still  stand.  Before  Christmas,  1860,  the  camp  contained  some 
five  thousand  men,  with  all  the  accompaniments  of  saloon,  store,  dance 
house,  and  gambling  hall,  in  which  the  lucky  miner  too  often  parted 
with  his  bonanza.  Gold  dust  was  the  usual  medium  of  exchange,  by 
weight  at  $18  per  ounce. 

In  one  year  the  gulch  yielded  about  a  million  dollars;  then  one  by 
one  the  placers  were  worked  out,  and  the  slow  decline  began.  In  1865 
but  few  miners  remained,  and  the  total  yield  to  that  time  was  esti- 
mated at  three  millions.  In  1869  it  was  but  $60,000;  in  1876  but 
$20,000 ;  and  then  for  a  short  time  there  was  no  town  of  Oro.  But 
some  observing  men  had  noticed  a  few  things  which  they  kept  to 
themselves  till  they  had  secured  Government  title  to  their  claims. 
Messrs.  Stevens  and  Wood  remarked  the  extraordinary  weight  of  the 
boulders  displaced  in  placer  mining,  analyzed  the  metal,  and  found 
silver.  They  quietly  secured  titles  to  nine  claims,  and  began  to  de- 
velop. Maurice  Hayes  and  brother,  the  Gallagher  brothers,  and  a 
Mr.  Durham  also  made  similar  discoveries.  Meanwhile  the  Printer's 
Boy  and  some  other  gold  lodes  had  been  opened  and  worked.  At 
length,  in  the  autumn  of  1876,  the  Gallaghers  struck  a  big  deposit  of 
rich  carbonates,  and  in  a  few  weeks  several  others  "struck  it  rich"; 
then  California  Gulch  awoke  from  its  long  sleep  and  the  era  of  mod- 
ern Leadville  began.  For  fifteen  years  miners  had  taken  out  one 
kind  of  ore  directly  over  fabulous  wealth  of  another  kind,  without 
even  suspecting  it.  In  how  many  old  camps  are  they  doing  the  same 
thing  even  now? 
37 


578 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


"  Early  in  1877  two  smelters  were  running,  but  rich  discoveries  fol- 
lowed each  other  so  fast  that  ore  was  piled  up  hundreds  of  tons  ahead 
of  their  capacity  to  reduce  it.  In  June,  1877,  Charles  Mater  erected 
the  first  house  in  the  present  Leadville,  and  opened  a  stock  of  goods 
therein.  Before  Christmas  the  place  contained  one  thousand  inhabit- 
ants; by  spring  it  had  a  weekly  paper,  a  school,  and  two  churches. 
A.  B.  Wood  made  the  first  big  sale,  disposing  of  his  half  interest  in 
the  nine  claims  above  mentioned  for  $40,000.  In  March,  1878,  the 


A  NEW  MINING  TOWN. 


St.  Louis  Smelting  Company  bought  the  Camp  Bird  and  adjoining 
property  for  $225,000.  By  the  first  of  June  half  a  dozen  rich  mines 
were  known;  then  the  flood  began.  First  came  miners  and  investors 
by  twos  and  tens  from  adjacent  camps,  then  by  scores  from  distant 
parts  of  Colorado,  and  soon  by  hundreds  from  every  part  of  the  world. 
Winter  brought  a  slight  cessation,  but  the  summer  of  1878  increased 
the  arrivals.  The  next  winter  made  no  cessation,  and  early  in  1879 
the  arrivals  averaged  a  hundred  per  day.  Meanwhile  the  wonderful 
deposits  on  Freyer  Hill  were  opened — deposits  so  rich  and  easily 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  579 

mined  that  they  exceeded  any  thing  previously  known  in  Colorado; 
and  were  only  exceeded,  if  at  all,  by  the  Big  Bonanza  of  Nevada. 

In  May,  1879,  this  was  the  situation:  Three  stage  lines  were  dis- 
charging their  daily  loads  there,  and  two  railroads  were  pushing  for- 
ward to  Leadville;  five  smelters  and  sampling  works  were  taking  in 
ore  and  shipping  ore  or  bullion ;  a  dozen  saw-mills  ran  day  and  night, 
and  were  a  month  behind  on  orders  for  lumber;  six  thousand  people 
had  a  regular  residence  in  the  place,  and  unknown  thousands  more  were 
scattered  over  the  adjacent  country ;  five  hundred  houses  were  in  process 
of  building,  and  the  sound  of  the  hammer  and  saw  was  heard  day  and 
night.  The  luxuries  of  life  followed  fast.  Dance  houses  and  saloons 
multiplied,  and  "  dizzy  doves  "  gave  an  air  of  abandon  to  the  streets. 
Enormous  sales  followed  each  other  rapidly.  Men  who  rarely  had 
an  extra  dollar  in  their  lives,  found  themselves  rich  beyond  their 
dreams,  and  spent  money  with  lavish  hand.  It  was  difficult  to  make 
one's  way  along  the  streets  after  night,  when  sight-seers  and  roysterers 
crowded  the  pavement.  A  dozen  bands  were  drumming  up  audiences 
for  as  many  variety  shows  and  concert  halls,  and  from  scores  of  open 
doors  were  heard  the  click  of  billiard  balls  and  the  crash  of  ten-pins. 
Those  who  make  money  suddenly,  generally  spend  it  carelessly,  and 
life  in  a  thriving  mining  camp  is  a  continuous  invitation  to  prodi- 
gality. 

In  December,  1879,  the  official  report  showed  that  Leadville  con- 
tained four  banks,  with  over  $2,000,000  in  deposits;  that  $569,070 
had  been  sent  east  in  postal  money-orders,  and  mail  received  at  the 
rate  of  one  or  two  tons  per  day ;  that  corner  lots  sold  at  from  $3,000 
to  $8,000;  and  that  the  city  had  that  year  done  a  business  aggregating 
over  $18,000,000! 

Since  the  opening  of  1881,  authentic  figures  are  scarce.  The  popu- 
lation is  estimated  all  the  way  from  fifteen  to  forty  thousand:  take 
your  choice.  But  the  town  is  far  more  solid  than  it  was.  The  Tabor 
Opera  House  is  the  finest  in  the  State ;  and  the  churches,  school  build- 
ings, and  public  halls  are  equal  to  those  in  eastern  cities.  The  city 
is  illuminated  with  gas;  has  first-class  water-works,  police  and  fire 
departments ;  is  now  a  well-ordered  place ;  has  three  first-class  daily 
and  several  weekly  papers.  The  post-office  is  a  wonder  in  itself. 
Twelve  clerks  are  constantly  on  the  move,  and  thousands  of  letters 
are  received  daily  and  delivered  here  or  sent  on  to  distant  camps. 
The  hotel  business  is  enormous.  The  Clarendon  took  in  $260,000 
in  nine  months.  Almost  every  Christian  denomination  is  represented 
by  a  fine  church;  and  even  the  heathen  Chinese  have  a  little  room 


580  WESTERN  WILDS. 

which  they  use  on  occasion  as  a  Buddhist  temple.  One  dry-goods 
house  sold  $350,000  worth  in  twelve  months,  and  a  grocery  firm  over 
$400,000  worth  in  the  same  time.  There  are  two  planing  mills  and 
four  foundries  and  machine  shops.  The  smelters  ship  over  $1,000,000 
in  bullion  every  month.  And  as  this  is  the  test  of  a  mining  region, 
let  us  finish  our  chapter  on  Leadville  by  a  visit  to  the  Grant  Smelter, 
which  is  among  the  largest  in  the  world. 

The  first  objects  of  interest,  after  you  pass  through  the  yard  gate, 
are  the  great  piles  of  dirt  and  stone,  as  you  would  call  them,  but 
which  are  really  piles  of  valuable  ore  from  the  mines.  Every  load 
is  driven  on  the  scales  and  weighed  as  it  comes  in,  and  then  assigned 
a  place  according  to  its  value,  which  has  been  carefully  ascertained 
by  an  assay  made  by  the  experts  in  the  employ  of  the  smelting  com- 
pany. Passing  into  the  building,  you  observe  long  rows  of  large  bins 
full  of  ore,  each  properly  numbered — the  number  indicating  the  qual- 
ity of  the  ore.  Passing  these  bins,  you  encounter  an  army  of  men 
wheeling  ore,  limestone,  coal,  coke,  and  slag  (which  is  the  cooled 
refuse  of  the  smelted  ore),  in  all  directions,  without  any  seeming 
order  or  plan.  Further  on  you  observe  men  shoveling  the  ore  into 
a  sort  of  hopper,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  hopper  wheeling  away 
fine  dirt,  or  ore  that  looks  like  sand.  These  hoppers,  with  huge  iron 
rollers  underneath,  are  called  crushers,  and  the  ore  is  passed  through 
these  crushers  to  pulverize  it  so  it  will  smelt  more  easily.  There  are 
three  of  these  crushers. 

We  now  see  that  the  men  who  were  wheeling  various  materials 
about  the  buildings,  leave  their  loaded  wheelbarrows  in  front  of  these 
furnaces.  They  are  just  now  charging  or  filling  this  one,  and  we  will 
watch  the  process.  On  the  first  is  charcoal ;  on  the  second,  limestone ; 
on  the  third,  ore;  on  the  fourth,  coke;  and  on  the  fifth,  slag.  Ob- 
serve he  dumps  the  coal  in  first,  then  the  limestone,  and  so  on.  Other 
wheelbarrow  loads  are  brought  and  dumped  into  the  furnace  until  it 
is  full ;  then  the  door  is  shut,  and  the  whole  mass  begins  to  melt. 
You  ask  why  all  these  different  materials  are  used?  Well,  the  coal 
and  coke  are  of  course  put  in  to  furnish  the  heat  required ;  the  lime- 
stone and  slag  are  put  in  to  act  as  a  flux.  (This  word  literally 
means  a  flow.)  These  substances  assist  in  the  fusion  or  melting,  and 
also  in  separating  the  different  metallic  substances  that  are  combined  in 
the  ore.  The  silica  or  sand  in  the  ore  unites  with  the  lime,  and  thus 
frees  the  silver  and  lead  which  are  contained  in  the,  ore.  Other  min- 
eral substances  also  unite  with  the  flux,  leaving  the  silver  and  lead  free 
from  the  baser  metals.  At  the  bottom  of  the  furnace  you  see  several 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  581 

tubes  or  pipes  inserted.  These  are  called  "blowers,"  and  through 
them  the  air  is  forced  into  the  furnace  to  increase  the  process  of  com- 
bustion. By  the  aid  of  the  blowers  the  furnace  is  made  hot  enough 
to  melt  the  ore,  etc.  Now  you  observe  men  opening  a  spout  near  the 
bottom  of  the  furnace,  and  draining  off  a  red-hot  liquid  substance, 
which  looks  like  melted  iron,  into  cast-iron  molds  shaped  like  an  in- 
verted cone.  This  is  the  slag  or  waste,  and  is  composed  of  the  sand, 
iron,  lime,  and  all  other  base  metals  which  the  ore  contained.  The 
silver  and  lead,  which  are  heavier  than  the  slag,  go  to  the  bottom  of 
the  melted  mass,  and  are  taken  out  at  the  side  of  the  furnace,  from  a 
round  opening  called  the  well.  Near  the  well  you  see  a  long  row 
of  cast-iron  molds,  each  capable  of  holding  about  one  hundred  pounds 
of  bullion,  or  silver  and  lead  combined.  Into  these  molds  the  melted 
bullion  is  poured,  and  when  cold  it  is  ready  to  ship.  The  silver  and 
lead  are  not  separated  at  the  smelter,  but  are  sent  as  bullion  to  St. 
Louis,  Philadelphia,  New  York,  and  other  places,  to  be  separated  and 
sold.  Some  of  the  ore  is  very  rich  in  silver,  and  contains  but  little 
lead,  while  other  grades  have  a  large  per  cent,  of  lead  and  but  little 
silver.  Some  of  the  bullion  averages  as  high  as  twenty-five  per  cent, 
in  silver. 

When  all  the  furnaces  about  Leadville  are  in  operation  they  can 
reduce  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  tons  of  ore  every  twenty-four 
hours,  which  will  make  about  five  tons  of  bullion,  and  will  contain  a 
ton  of  pure  silver,  and  perhaps  more.  Three  hundred  men  are  em- 
ployed when  all  the  furnaces  are  running  to  their  fullest  capacity. 
Great  care  must  be  taken  by  the  workmen  not  to  get  "  leaded ; "  that 
is,  not  to  inhale  the  fumes  from  the  melted  lead,  which  are  very 
poisonous,  and,  if  inhaled  to  any  great  extent,  will  bring  on  a  very 
painful  sickness,  and  perhaps  result  in  death. 

I  have  said  that  the  pilgrim  would  seldom  if  ever  recognize  the 
richest  ore;  that  his  eye  would  be  caught  by  the  glitter  of  the  cheap 
galena ;  and  this  is  as  good  a  place  as  any  to  give  some  of  the  reasons 
why.  First,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  though  the  simple  elements  in  rock 
and  mineral  are  few,  their  combinations  are  almost  endless ;  and  the 
merest  trace  of  some  element  like  sulphur  will  entirely  change  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  ore.  In  gold  mining  there  is  little  chance  for  techni- 
calities, for  gold  is  "free" — that  is,  in  its  native  matrix  of  quartz  it 
does  not  combine  with  other  minerals,  and  the  separation  is  simple. 
But  silver  is  the  metal  with  which  true  science  comes  in  play ;  for  of 
the  sixty  or  more  simple  elements  of  which  all  creation  is  composed, 
he  would  be  a  bold  miner  who  would  put  his  finger  on  one  and  say, 


582  WESTERN  WILDS. 

"That  is  never  found  with  silver."  The  enclosing  rocks,  known  in 
reference  to  the  vein  as  "  wall  rock,"  and  when  spoken  of  generally  as 
the  "country  rock,"  are  somewhat  more  simple  in  construction. 

Of  the  elements  in  rock  and  mineral,  the  first  is — 

Oxygen. — This  constitutes  nearly  one-half  of  the  earth's  crust;  it 
enters  into  all  rocks  and  nearly  all  minerals.  Next  to  it  is 

Silicon. — This  makes  up  about  one-fourth  of  the  earth's  crust.  So 
oxygen  and  silicon  alone  constitute  about  three-fourths  of  all  the  mate- 
rials the  miner  has  to  deal  with.  Combined  in  some  way  they  make 
.  Quartz. — This  is,  in  general  terms,  the  matrix  of  the  precious 
metals — that  is,  the  atom  of  silver  or  gold  is  inclosed  by  atoms  of 
quartz,  so  that  the  metal,  as  such,  is  rarely  visible,  and  its  presence  is 
known  to  the  experienced  miner  only  by  various  signs.  But  if  there 
is  much  galena  present  with  the  silver,  that  metal  nearly  always  shows 
brightly  with  its  cubical  crystals,  looking  like  marvelously  rich  ore. 
If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  silver  is  a  chloride  or  sulphuret,  there  is  no 
luster.  Thus  the  richest  ore  always  looks  worthless  to  the  pilgrim, 
and  the  cheapest  looks  the  richest — the  quartz  in  either  case  merely 
aiding  to  obscure  the  true  ore.  Next  in  rank,  probably,  is 

Feldspar. — A  general  name  given  to  a  class  containing  several 
varieties.  Next  is 

Mica. — Which  is  too  well  known  to  need  description.  Quartz, 
feldspar,  and  mica,  combine  to  make  granite,  in  which  the  shining 
specks,  or  flakes,  of  mica  may  often  be  distinguished.  Th6  last  I 
need  mention  is 

Lime. — A  word  used  by  the  miner  in  a  very  general  sense  indeed, 
and  without  reference  to  the  many  distinctions  made  by  science.  The 
practical  miner  lumps  it  all  together  under  the  general  name  of  lime- 
stone. Limestone  is  the  country  rock  of  all  the  Cottonwood,  Ameri- 
can Fork,  and  Ophir  Districts  in  Utah ;  of  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  Leadville ;  of  some  of  the  richest  mines  in  Mexico,  and  of  many 
other  districts.  In  eastern  Colorado  we  usually  find  granite,  or  some 
massive  rock;  and  in  other  districts  the  varieties  are  many.  With 
these  definitions  you  may  form  some  idea  of  what  the  miner  means 
by  his  first  question  about  a  new  district:  "What  is  the  country 
rock?"  That  answered,  he  at  once  has  some  idea  as  to  the  value  of 
the  mines,  for  in  some  mysterious  way  the  inclosing  rock  has  deter- 
mined the  ease  with  which  the  ore  can  be  worked,  and  to  some  ex- 

*  I 

tent  its  richness.  For  instance,  carbonic  acid  being  present  in  lime- 
stone, the  reader  will  easily  see  why  mines  yielding  carbonate  ores 
must  have  one  wall  of  that  rock.  The  carbonic  acid  has  been  ab- 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  583 

'  sorbed  by,  and  has  changed  the  character  of  the  ore,  solid  galena  hav- 
ing been  changed  to  carbonates ;  and  mines  are  occasionally  found  in 
which  this  process  is  not  quite  completed. 

And  here  we  may  appropriately  indulge  in  a  little  popular  science. 
The  miner  has  his  own  name  for  each  variety  of  ore  known  to  him, 
while  the  chemist,  or  metallurgist,  has  his;  but  for  the  commoner 
varieties  these  names  are  the  same,  and  are  formed  on  a  curiously  con- 
venient system.  If  the  term  ends  in  yde,  ide,  or  id,  it  means  a  com- 
bination of  oxygen  or  some  gas  with  the  metal.  Thus  we  have  oxide 
of  silver,  etc.,  and  chloride  of  silver,  a  chemical  union  of  chlorine  and 
silver,  very  rich  and  easily  reduced,  it  being  already  in  favorable  com- 
bination with  salt.  If  the  termination  is  uret,  it  means  a  union  of  the 
actual  substance  with  the  silver,  as  sulphuret,  a  combination  of  sulphur 
and  silver;  sulphuret  of  zinc,  zinc  and  sulphur,  etc.  If  it  is  ate,  it 
means  the  acid  combined  with  the  mineral,  making  an  entirely  new 
compound;  and  of  all  these,  carbonates  of  lead  and  silver  are  most 
familiar  to  the  miner,  and  generally  most  welcome,  being  so  easily  re- 
duced. Of  the  carbonates  of  the  Ophir  District,  it  is  said  that  they 
"  run  through  a  smelter  like  molasses,"  and  those  of  Leadville  are  re- 
ported even  more  tractable,  where  there  is  lead  enough  in  the  com- 
bination. Many  mines  there  have  an  additional  element  of  iron, 
which  is  said  to  add  to  the  ease  of  treatment.  Galena,  in  miners' 
language,  simply  means  lead  in  the  ore ;  galeniferous,  carrying  lead, 
and  argentiferous  carrying  silver.  The  bulk  of  ore  from  the  large  ore- 
bodies  in  Utah  is  simply  argentiferous  galena,  and  Gentile  Utah  is 
often  spoken  of  poetically  as  Utah  Argentifera. 

As  aforesaid,  the  received  opinion  is  that  all  carbonates  were  once 
galena,  or  some  other  solid  ore;  and  not  very  long  ago,  as  nature 
counts  time.  In  the  Emma  Mine,  Utah,  while  shoveling  up  carbon- 
ates as  loose  as  sand,  one  often  comes  upon  a  solid  chunk  of  galena; 
but  in  the  Ophir  District,  the  carbonates  are  bright  and  free  from 
other  ores.  A  pile  of  ore  just  from  some  of  the  mines  there  looks 
very  like  a  mixture  of  sand  and  lime — the  chemical  union  is  com- 
plete. Galena  is  among  the  heaviest  ores,  and  can  nearly  always  be 
reduced  by  ordinary  smelting,  the  lead  and  silver  in  combination  sink- 
ing to  the  bottom,  while  the  melted  gangue,  being  lighter,  rises  and  is 
drawn  off  as  slag.  Of  course  the  bullion  so  obtained  is  nearly  all 
lead,  and  the  silver  and  lead  must  be  separated  by  refining.  Galena, 
when  sufficiently  pure,  crystallizes  in  beautiful  cubes;  those,  when 
crushed,  break  again  into  cubes,  and  so  on  indefinitely.  In  all  the 
vast  work-house  of  nature  I  know  of  nothing  more  marvelous  than  the 


584  WESTERN  WILDS. 

crystallization  of  minerals.  One  forms  a  cube,  another  a  hexagon, 
another  a  tetrahedron,  and  still  another  a  dodecahedron ;  some  com- 
bine with  faces  at  certain  angles,  and  lines  of  cleavage  parallel  there- 
with ;  others  at  just  half  that  angle,  and  still  others  in  multiform  fig- 
ures for  which  geometry  has  no  name,  but  all  symmetrical  beyond  the 
power  of  art  to  surpass.  And  no  matter  how  broken,  each  crystal  fol- 
lows the  law  of  its  cleavage;  the  cube  breaks  into  cubes,  the  hexagon 
into  hexagons,  etc. 

Sulphuret  is  the  generalname  of  all  silver  ores  in  combination  with 
sulphur.  They  are  generally  rich,  mostly  in  hard  rock,  and  always 
more  or  less  rebellious.  Nearly  all  the  rich  ores  of  eastern  Colorado 
are  of  this  class.  The  combinations  are  almost  endless,  and  the  pres- 
ence of  zinc,  iron,  or  copper  pyrites,  antimony,  arsenic,  etc.,  presents 
a  perplexing  series  of  problems  to  the  mill  men.  Sulphurets  yield 
from  $200  to  $10,000  per  ton,  one  mine  sometimes  yielding  several 
different  grades.  Here  and  there  on  the  face  of  an  ore-seam  are  some- 
times found  little  accretions  of  pure  silver,  Avhich  miners  speak  of  as 
"  the  fat  of  the  vein."  It  is  supposed  that  there  was  more  silver  than 
the  other  materials  could  hold  in  chemical  union,  so  it  overflowed  in 
these  nibs,  which  hang  on  the  face  of  the  seam  like  leaf-lard.  Ac- 
cording to  their  purity,  or  the  minerals  mixed  with  them,  such  nibs 
are  known  as  wire  silver,  horn  silver,  ruby  silver,  silver  glance,  azurite 
or  tetrahedrite.  A  change  of  less  than  one  per  cent,  in  the  accompa- 
nying chemical  will  often  change  entirely  the  color  of  such  ore. 
Azurite  is  a  combination  of  silver  with  blue  carbonate  of  copper,  and 
yields  anywhere  from  $500  to  $10,000  per  ton.  Tetrahedrite  is  so 
named  from  its  crystallizing  in  tetrahedrons.  Sulphurets  of  other 
metals  are  constantly  met  with,  and  greatly  increase  the  difficulty  of 
reduction.  "  Black-jack,"  or  zinc-blend,  a  sulphuret  of  zinc  and  cop- 
per, is  a  very  troublesome  combination.  Chunks  of  it  have  been 
found  assaying  $500  per  ton,  but  no  man  is  anxious  to  find  it  in  his 
mine  for  all  that.  It  looks  like  a  lump  of  black  wax  turned  to  vitre- 
ous stone,  and  is  spoken  of  as  "  horribly  rebellious."  I  have  seen  a 
lump  of  stuff  from  a  sulphuret  mine,  no  larger  than  my  fist,  which 
was  shown  by  assay  to  contain  twenty  different  minerals.  Iron  pyrites 
is  a  sulphuret  of  iron,  protean  in  appearance,  jocularly  known  as 
fool's  gold.  Most  of  the  reported  discoveries  in  the  eastern  states 
are  due  to  this  cheating  mineral. 

In  conclusion  it  may  be  said  that  from  the  differences  herein  de- 
scribed some  important  political  consequences  follow.  First,  that 
placer  mines  are  almost  a  curse  to  a  country,  while  lodes  requiring 


MINING  FORTUNES  AND  MISFORTUNES.  585 

deep  mining  are  a  permanent  blessing.  For  the  placers  attract  a 
swarm  of  eager  adventurers  who  hasten  to  exhaust  the  supply,  often  to 
demoralize  the  country,  and  then  abandon  it,  while  lodes  require  a 
vast  outlay  of  capital  and  years  of  honest  industry.  The  plant  re- 
quires from  $20,000  to  $100,000  in  capital  and  labor,  and  no  good 
silver  district  is  really  developed  in  less  than  ten  years,  while  for  gen- 
erations thereafter  work  goes  on  with  improved  methods.  Thus,  per- 
manent towns  and  cities  are  built  up,  a  good  market  is  created,  and 
the  adjacent  lands  are  brought  under  high  "cultivation ;  trade  is  very 
active,  and  local  manufactures  are  brought  into  existence.  A  thousand 
miners  buy  three  times  as  much  as  a  thousand  farmers,  for  they  pro- 
duce nothing  they  can  use.  Thus  the  old  placer-mining  counties  of 
California  are  bankrupt  and  almost  deserted,  while  the  mineral  devel- 
opment of  Utah  has  more  than  doubled  the  value  of  real  estate,  and 
the  mines  of  Colorado  have  made  that  State  rich  in'  farming  and 
grazing.  This  distinction  is  worth  considering  if  the  reader  thinks  of 
making  a  settlement  in  some  of  the  mining  territories. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

MINING  IN   1882. 

MAY,  1869,  was  rendered  memorable  by  the  opening  of  the  first 
through  railway  line  across  the  Continent;  the  spring  of  1881  wit- 
nessed the  opening  of  the  second ;  but  it  passed  almost  unnoticed, 
while  that  of  1869  was  the  occasion  of  a  national  jubilee.  In  a 
former  chapter  the  reader  will  find  some  account  of  the  projected  35th 
parallel  road  .and  my  journey  over  a  portion  of  its  line.  The  Northern 
Pacific  is  of  national  fame.  The  Texas  Pacific,  or  32d  parallel,  road 
was  to  run  near  the  boundary  between  us  and  Mexico.  But  all  these 
were  outdone  by  the  Southern  Pacific  of  California,  which  was  started 
to  give  San  Francisco  direct  railroad  connection  with  Arizona  and 
New  Mexico,  and  once  fairly  started  was  pushed  forward  towards 
Texas  with  amazing  vigor.  Meanwhile,  the  Atchison,  .Topeka,  and 
Santa  Fe  line  was  pushed  on  from  La  Junta,  Colorado,  its  objective 
point  being  Guayamas,  on  the  Pacific  Coast  of  Mexico.  Thus  its  line 
crossed  that  of  the  California  road,  at  an  acute  angle,  in  the  Florida 
Pass,  New  Mexico;  and  at  that  meeting  they  decided  to  make  it  one 
line  for  through  business.  So  the  first  train,  from  ocean  to  river,  on 
the  new  trans-continental,  reached  Kansas  City  almost  unheralded 
and  unnoticed.  It  is  but  a  question  of  a  few  years  when  both  roads 
will  be  completed  to  their  original  destinations,  and  the  Northern 
Pacific  will  be  pushed  through ;  then  four  lines  will  connect  us  with 
the  Pacific,  and  nearly  one-half  of  the  Wild  West  be  abolished. 

Scarcely  had  the  two  roads  touched  their  boundaries  when  the 
mineral  wealth  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  was  shown  to  be  great; 
but  other  matters  are  of  more  immediate  interest.  First  to  be  noted 
beyond  La  Junta  is  Trinidad,  and  sixteen  miles  beyond  it  a  tunnel 
2,000  feet  long,  through  which  the  railroad  penetrates  the  Raton,  over 
which  I  staged  with  such  difficulty^!!  1872.  Here  the  formation  is 
carboniferous,  and  from  immense  mines  coal  is  loaded  on  the  cars  at 
eighty  cents  a  ton.  Thence  straight  southward  to  Las  Vegas,  near 
the  old  stage  line,  the  road  running  conveniently  near  to  the  great 
Hot  Springs,  which  have  already  acquired  fame  as  a  sanitarium. 
From  Galisteo  a  branch  road  runs  up  a  canon  to  Santa  Fe ;  and  so 
the  queer  old  city  has  a  railroad  at  last,  though  I  was  positive,  in 

1872,  from  its  position,  that  it  never  would  have.     From  Albuquerque 
AM) 


MINING  IN  1882.  587 

a  branch  runs  along  the  old  Atlantic  and  Pacific  line  to  a  point  nearly 
a  hundred  miles  west;  so  all  that  long  dry  way  I  journeyed  with 
United  States  mules,  is  now  traversed  by  rail,  and  the  sad-eyed 
Zunis  and  strange  old  Pueblos  are  brought  within  four  days  ride 
of  Cincinnati!  Whither  shall  the  enterprising  traveler  now  go  for 
wild  adventure?  From  Albuquerque  the  road  continues  down  the 
Rio  Grande  over  100  miles  and  bears  off  to  Florida  Pass,  where,  as 
aforesaid,  it  now  connects  with  the  California  Pacific.  Thence  south- 
ward it  will  continue — so  the  sanguine  projectors  assure  us — down  to 
Mexico  City,  sending  off  branches  eastwardly  to  El  Paso,  and  west- 
wardly  to  Guayamas.  Already  the  work  is  being  pushed  rapidly 
from  the  Mexican  ends  of  these  lines,  and  the  long  criticized  unenter- 
prising Spanish-Americans  seem  stirred  into  wonderful  activity  by  the 
Yankee  railroad  builders.  These  wonderful  schemes,  so  near  comple- 
tion, almost  force  us  into  rhapsody;  our  most  eloquent  praise  is  a 
plain  statement  of  what  they  have  done  and  are  doing.  The  coffee 
lands  of  Mexico  are  brought  within  a  week's  run  of  Boston;  the 
Orient  is  at  our  back  door ;  Australasia  is  our  near  neighbor. 

From  the  San  Francisco  end  of  the  Southern  Pacific  we  run  rapidly 
southward,  and  soon  emerge  on  the  awfully  barren  sand  plains  and 
red  deserts  of  southeastern  California.  By  common  consent  the 
Mohave  and  Yuma  Desert,  running  away  up  into  Utah  and  Nevada, 
is  considered  the  most  uniformly  barren  of  any  large  tract  in  the  Far 
West.  Making  all  possible  deductions  for  oases  and  green  vegan,  it 
contains  at  least  80,000  square  miles  of  irreclaimable  desert.  A  nar- 
row line  of  faint  green  relieves  the  eye  at  Fort  Yuma,  where  we  cross 
the  Colorado,  to  Yuma  City  on  the  east  side,  and  soon  after  enter  on 
the  Gila  Valley.  This  has  an  occasional  oasis,  but  the  Pueblos  unite 
in  testifying  that  from  the  date  of  their  oldest  traditions  moisture  has 
been  decreasing  and  barrenness  growing;  and  the  local  evidences 
prove  it,  the  country  being  thick-set  with  the  ruins  of  abandoned 
towns.  First  is  the  noted  Casas  Grandes,  a  vast  pile  of  ruins  with 
form  enough  to  show  that  it  is  the  remains  of  many  immense  adobe 
buildings — all  terraced  and  run  together  like  those  I  described  at 
Moqui.  Smaller  ruins  are  found  by  hundreds;  by  digging  in  them 
one  can  always  find  the  floor  of  an  old  Aztec  house,  and  under  the 
hearth  one  will  almost  always  find  human  bones,  showing  that  they 
buried  their  dead  there.  In  the  Salt  River  valley  are  the  remains  of 
a  canal  nearly  a  hundred  miles  long,  which  once  brought  water  from 
the  Verde  River  to  irrigate  a  large  tract.  Now  the  miners  and  pros- 
pectors are  rapidly  developing  a  new  civilization  on  the  tombs  of  the 


588 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


old,  and  in  a  score  of  districts  new  mines  are  opened.  That  part  of 
Final  county  north  of  the  Gila  is  almost  covered  by  mining  districts, 
among  which  the  Globe  and  the  Pioneer  districts  lead.  In  the 


CAPE  HORN   AND  RAILROAD,  SIERRA  NEVADA. 


former  is  the  noted  Silver  King,  which  is  in  many  respects  the  most 
remarkable  mine  in  America. 

Years  ago,  when  the  murderous  Apaches  held  this  region,  an  escap- 
ing Mexican  brought  into  Tucson  a  large  piece  of  pure  native  silver, 


MINING  IN  1882.  589 

which  he  said  he  broke  from  an  immense  outcrop  as  he  toiled  on  his 
devious  way  through  the  mountain  passes.  Great  was  the  fever 
thereat,  and  many  loose-footed  men  wanted  him  to  guide  them  back ; 
but  dread  of  the  Apaches  prevented.  At  length  came  a  truce ;  a  rush 
was  made,  the  mine  was  found,  and  the  Mexican's  description  proved 
literally  true.  The  ore  was  so  rich  that  immense  profits  were  made, 
before  machinery  could  be  brought  in,  by  simply  picking  it  by  hand, 
sacking  the  best,  and  shipping  it  to  San  Francisco  by  mule-back  and 
freight- wagon.  The  ore  is  peculiar,  and  the  formation  a  puzzle  to  one 
who  sees  it  for  the  first  time.  An  expert  sent  from  San  Francisco  to 
report  thereon,  condemned  the  mine  as  a  flyer — that  is,  a  mere  freak 
of  nature,  without  sign  of  permanence;  but  it  has  since  that  time 
yielded  $1,200,000,  and  is  still  doing  well.  Globe  City  is  new,  but  the 
district  has  forty  mines  within  six  miles  of  a  common  center.  The 
town  supports  a  newspaper  and  a  branch  telegraph  down  to  the  main 
line ;  and  already  a  branch  railroad  is  projected  to  connect  this  group 
of  mines,  or  rather  this  series  of  mining  districts,  with  Tombstone  and 
other  more  southern  districts,  crossing  the  Southern  Pacific  and 
traversing  some  good  belts  of  timber. 

The  Southern  Pacific  follows  the  general  course  of  the  Gila  for  a 
hundred  miles  or  so  to  Maricopa,  thence  strikes  straight  southeast  nearly 
a  hundred  more  to  Tucson,  thence  eastward  to  the  rocky  San  Pedro, 
wrhich  it  crosses  in  the  midst  of  savage  grandeur  and  sandy  desolation. 
Here  we  will  leave  the  railroad  for  awhile  and  stage  it,  southward,  up 
the  San  Pedro,  to  the  really  marvelous  district  of  Tombstone.  There 
is  enough  even  in  the  town  to  make  a  week's  visit  pass  pleasantly  if 
not  profitably.  In  fact,  the  disagreeable  feature  will  be  found  in  the 
stage  ride  coming  from  the  railroad  station  of  Benson,  about  twenty- 
six  miles  distant.  Large  numbers  of  heavy  freight  teams  are  con- 
stantly coming  and  going,  and  every  new  road  that  the  stage  company 
makes  to  avoid  the  dust  and  chuck  holes  is  almost  immediately  appro- 
priated, by  the  freighters.  The  jolting  is  almost  severe  enough  to  dis- 
lodge a  man's  eyes  from  their  sockets,  while  the  dust  is  simply  fright- 
ful. A  passenger  alights  from  the  coach  with  eyes,  ears,  and  mouth 
almost  obliterated,  while  his  hair  and  whiskers  are  turned  to  a  creamy 
white  by  the  villainous  powder  known  as  alkali  dust.  He  would  not 
be  recognized  by  his  own  wife.  There  is  an  opposition  stage,  both 
lines  running  a  double  daily,  in  addition  to  cages  carrying  baggage 
and  treasure.  The  fare  is  four  dollars  for  the  trip,  and  all  the  coaches 
appear  to  run  full.  Eighteen  passengers  is  not  considered  by  any 
means  a  large  load. 


590  WESTERN  WILDS. 

The  road  follows  up  the  San  Pedro  River  bottom  and  bluffs  on  an 
easy  and  imperceptible  grade  the  entire  distance.  In  places  where  the 
road  crosses  the  creek,  the  scene  is  pleasant  and  agreeable,  as  this 
stream  is  the  only  living  water  the  traveler  will  notice  after  leaving 
Yuma,  a  distance  of  about  three  hundred  miles.  Arriving  at  night  the 
first  impressions  of  the  town  are  very  favorable.  The  two  long  lines 
of  streets,  including  the  cross  streets,  are  brilliantly  illuminated, 
saloons  particularly.  They  and  the  hotels  run  all  night,  while  most 
of  the  stores  are  open  up  to  a  very  late  hour.  As  in  all  new  mining 
camps,  everybody  is  in  a  hurry  to  get  rich,  and  the  merchants  form 
no  exception  to  the  rule.  They  think  it  necessary  to  take  down  their 
shutters  at  day-light  in  the  morning  and  do  not  put  them  up  again 
until  from  nine  to  eleven  P.  M. 

The  town  is  located  on  a  kind  of  "  hog's  back,"  with  the  principal 
streets  running  parallel  along  the  center  on  an  almost  even  grade, 
while  on  either  side  there  is  a  gentle  slope,  making  a  system  of  sewer- 
age easy  of  accomplishment.  The  majority  of  the  buildings  in  the 
center  of  the  business  portion,  are  all  two-story,  and  quite  a  number 
of  new  business  houses  are  being  erected,  the  material  used  being 
adobe,  with  brick  fronts  and  finishing.  Although  lumber  is  compara- 
tively cheap,  there  being  an  abundance  of  timber  in  the  mountains, 
about  thirty  miles  distant,  where  a  sawmill  is  located,  very  little  is 
used  to  construct  frame  buildings,  for,  owing  to  the  limited  supply  of 
water  now  brought  in  from  the  river,  about  eight  miles  distant,  it  is 
important  to  have  fire-proof  buildings.  The  mines  on  the  ridge  over- 
looking the  town  have  struck  pure  water,  which  will  be  brought  into 
reservoirs,  giving  an  unlimited  supply  for  all  purposes.  At  present 
the  supply  is  barely  sufficient  for  drinking  purposes,  and  we  doubt  if 
it  would  go  around  but  for  the  innumerable  saloons  which  furnish 
beer  and  whisky  at  a  bit  (12|  cents)  a  drink,  the  two  bit  (25  cents) 
places  being  the  exception. 

The  banking  houses,  merchandise  and  general  business  establish- 
ments, are  in  a  more  prosperous  condition.  One  bad  feature  of  Cali- 
fornia is  omitted  here  entirely,  and  that  is  the  stock-gambling  board. 
Nearly  all  the  mining  property  is  in  the  hands  of  corporations,  and  if 
you  want  to  buy  stock  you  can  see  the  property  and  get  just  what  you 
pay  for.  Money  is  more  evenly  distributed,  there  being  none  of  that 
terrible  gathering  up  of  all  the  loose  change  the  community  has  for 
the  benefit  of  the  wealthy  mining  stock  manipulators. 

One  may  safely  say  that  the  merchandise  business  of  the  town  is  in 
the  hands  of  old  San  Diego  people,  and  the  judiciary  likewise.  The 


MINING  IN  1882.  591 

mines  are  owned  in  Boston,  and  the  miners  and  prospectors  come  from 
Nevada.  So  the  place  is  pleasantly  composite.  At  the  time  the  town 
site  was  located,  no  one  supposed  there  was  ore  beneath.  Now 
miners  work  continuously  under  the  street,  and  in  the  still  hours  of 
the  night  you  hear  the  constant  exploding  of  giant  powder  blasts, 
which  is  a  trifle  jarring  to  the  nerves  of  the  property  owners  on  the 
surface,  whose  claim  to  the  ground  is  disputed  by  the  mining  locator. 
There  are  half  a  dozen  claimants  to  the  ground.  These  conflicting 
claims  do  not  seem  to  seriously  trouble  the  business  men,  who  get  the 
best  title  they  can  and  go  ahead  with  their  improvements.  Possession 
is  the  most  valid  claim.  It  was  so  in  the  case  of  a  shoemaker  here, 
who,  after  paying  three  months  rent  to  the  supposed  owner,  on  the 
fourth  collection  day  declined  to  make  any  further  payments,  stat- 
ing that  he  had  possession  of  the  building  and  lot,  also  a  shot-gun 
receipt,  and  would  not  stand  any  annoyance  from  collectors  or 
lawyers. 

The  town  is  strictly  American ;  there  is  none  of  the  Spanish  ele- 
ment. In  fact,  one  seems  to  have  passed  entirely  out  of  Arizona 
when  he  reaches  here.  The  streets  are  wide,  nicely  graded,  and  laid 
out  at  right  angles,  with  sidewalks  in  good  repair.  The  hotels  are 
good,  although  small,  and  the  attention  and  table  are  equal  to  any  in 
Los  Angeles.  Table  vegetables  are  raised  also  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  do  much  to  make  the  fare  tempting  as  compared  with  other  Ari- 
zona towns,  where  everything  is  brought  from  Los  Angeles.  On  the 
river  at  Charleston,  nine  miles  distant,  is  an  ice  machine,  and  every 
morning  the  ice  wagon  goes  its  rounds,  distributing  a  generous  supply 
of  cooling  solid.  The  price  is  seven  cents  per  pound,  but  these  people 
have  money  and  patronize  the  industry  liberally.  Two  companies  are 
on  hand  wanting  a  city  franchise  for  lighting  the  streets  with  gas  and 
electricity,  and  also  one  for  a  telephone  system.  When  the  matter  of 
the  franchise  is  settled,  the  town  will  be  lighted  and  telephoned  more 
in  proportion  to  its  population  than  any  city  on  the  coast.  The  busi- 
ness men  located  here  are  ambitious  and  enterprising,  and  are  willing 
to  pay  for  all  the  latest  and  most  advanced  improvements  of  modern 
civilization.  Concerning  the  mines  which  have  made  this  town  what 
it  is  in  two  short  years,  and  mapped  out  a  great  future,  they  are  claimed 
to  be  among  the  most  extensive  yet  discovered.  As  yet  this  ore  body 
is  only  prospected  enough  to  know  that  it  will  pay,  but  mining  men 
concede  that  in  the  few  mines  being  worked  they  have  probably  six 
years'  ore  in  sight,  and  beyond  that  no  one  can  tell  the  extent  of  it. 
Years  ago  prospectors  knew  of  rich  deposits  somewhere  in  this  neigh- 


592  WESTERN  WILDS. 

borhood,  and  made  desperate  attempts  to  secure  the  prize,  as  can  be 
seen  by  the  wreck  of  the  old  adobe  building  which  is  on  the  road  to 
Charleston,  and  which  the  miners  built  sixteen  years  ago  as  a  common 
rendezvous  and  fort  of  protection  against  the  Apaches.  It  is  here 
that  eleven  of  them  perished  so  miserably  by  the  hands  of  the  red- 
skins. The  present  locations  do  not  appear  to  have  been  the  objec- 
tive point  of  these  early  prospectors,  and  the  supposition  is  that  other 
and  richer  deposits  are  yet  to  be  found  to  the  south  and  west. 

The  bullion  output  for  May,  1881,  was  set  down  at  $482,106,  but 
had  the  whole  amount  of  custom  work  at  the  mills  been  cleaned  up 
and  added  in,  as  the  -returns  show,  the  amount  would  have  reached 
$502,000.  This  result  is  enormous  when  one  considers  the  limited 
facilities,  there  being  only  six  small  mills  on  the  river.  All  the  ore  had 
to  be  hauled  by  team  from  nine  to  eleven  miles.  The  hoisting  works 
and  machinery  are  of  a  very  primitive  nature,  mostly  hand  windlasses  or 
a  whim  and  horse  power.  Only  from  a  very  rich  quality  of  ore  could 
any  such  result  be  obtained.  True,  it  is  not  like  the  Comstock 
bonanza.  The  very  rich  streaks  are  small  in  extent,  but  the  ore  aver- 
ages well  and  there  is  little  or  no  waste.  When  a  ton  of  ore  is 
hoisted  to  the  surface  it  can  all  be  put  into  the  wagon  and  sent  to  the 
mill,  when  it  will  yield  from  $95  to  $150.  It  is  easily  mined.  One 
man,  with  the  proper  facilities,  in  one  day  of  eight  hours,  will  hoist  to 
the  surface  one  ton  of  ore  ready  for  the  mill.  This  is  speaking  in  a 
general  way  of  the  average  ore  and  what  can  be  done  when  a  mine  is 
being  worked  fair  and  square.  There  are  about  a  thousand  miners 
employed,  and  the  mines,  for  wages  and  milling  expenses,  disburse 
about  $125,000  per  month.  There  is  also  quite  an  army  of  freighters, 
blacksmiths,  wheelwrights,  and  other  laborers  who  follow  on  the  heels 
of  the  freight  teams. 

The  surrounding  country  is  both  a  farming  and  grazing  district. 
Beef  cattle  and  farm  produce  are  in  demand.  Prospectors  are  going 
out  daily.  Capital  is  coming  in  and  being  invested.  A  destructive 
fire  occurred  at  Tombstone,  June  22,  1881,  causing  a  loss  of  $250,000. 
Hundreds  were  rendered  homeless.  The  fire  department  and  officials 
worked  hard,  buildings  being  pulled  down  by  mule  teams  and  men, 
and  the  fire  was  checked.  Much  to  the  credit  of  Tombstone  no  panic 
ensued,  as  is  generally  the  case  in  such  disasters. 

So  much  for  Tombstone ;  and  we  have  detailed  its  common  life  fully 
because  it  is  just  now  the  objective  point  of  thousands.  Let  us  return 
down  the  wild  valley  of  the  San  Pedro,  go  on  to  the  Gila,  and  thence 
northeastward  to  scenes  we  visited  in  1872.  The  first  fact  to  attract 


MINING  IN  1882.  593 

attention  is  the  amazing  difference  in  climate  and  vegetation  between 
this  region  and  that  north  of  the  divide,  in  which  we  wandered  ten 
years  ago.  We  are  away  down  on  latitude  32°  and  34°,  and  the 
strange  tropical  and  desert  flora  give  us  the  idea  of  a  new  creation. 
There  are  over  one  hundred  varieties  of  the  cactus,  which  is  the  plant 
of  all  the  far  southwest.  There  is  the  cereus  giganteus,  which  has  at- 
tained a  height  of  sixty  feet  and  a  diameter  of  three ;  the  maguey,  with 
a  bulbous  root  as  large  as  a  half  bushel ;  the  hedge  cactus,  with  which 
Mexicans  fence  their  fields ;  the  amole,  used  for  soap,  and  many  others. 
All  bear  fearful  thorns  and  some  a  most  exquisite  fruit.  From  the 
maguey  a  very  strong  liquor  is  distilled,  containing  fourteen  fights  to 
the  gallon.  A  good  table  syrup  is  also  made  from  this  plant.  There 
is  a  great  variety  of  flowers,  and  in  the  growing  season  the  landscape 
often  presents  a  gorgeous  sight.  About  two-thirds  of  Arizona  is  cov- 
ered by  mountains,  fit  only  for  grazing,  timber,  or  mines;  half  the 
other  third  is  a  complete  desert,  and  still  there  are  at  least  2,500,000 
acres  of  ^ood  land  lying  in  position  to  be  reclaimed  by  irrigation. 
But  as  most  of  this  would  require  canals  on  a  large  scale,  such  as 
only  government  would  undertake,  there  is  probably  less  cultivated 
land  in  Arizona  to-day  than  in  any  one  county  in  Ohio. 

Coming  back  through  New  Mexico  we  find  that  old,  old  territory 
also  waked  up  on  the  subject  of  her  mineral  wealth;  development  of 
many  new  and  some  old  districts  is  in  rapid  progress,  but  statistics  are 
not  so  easily  obtainable.  Let  us  get  back  into  Colorado  and  take 
another  start  from  Canon  City,  visiting  Rosita  and  Silver  Cliff.  To 
reach  them  we  take  the  Grape  Creek  line,  nearly  straight  south,  some 
thirty  miles.  The  whole  country  abounds  with  wild  scenery  and 
startling  curiosities.  Local  geologists  have  a  theory  that  West 
Mountain  Valley  was  once  the  bed  and  valley  of  the  Arkansas  river, 
as  the  same  formation  extends  along  both.  On  the  east  of  it  is  the 
Greenhorn  Range,  and  west  of  it  the  Sangre  de  Christo  mountains ; 
and  on  the  west  side  of  the  first,  in  a  beautiful  glade,  is  Rosita,  with 
some  2,000  inhabitants.  Eight  miles  away  is  the  noted  Silver  Cliff, 
three  years  ago  unknown  and  unnamed,  to-day  a  city  of  10,000  peo- 
ple, with  miles  of  busy  streets  and  all  the  bustle  of  a  growing  mining 
town.  The  valley  northward  from  Rosita  is  very  fertile,  now  taken 
up  by  ranches  and  meadows,  which  gives  these  two  places  an  immense 
advantage  in  the  matter  of  cheap  food  and  fresh  vegetables. 

The  whole  formation  about  Silver  Cliff  and  Rosita  is  so  remarkable 
that  it  would  require  a  technical  education  in  geology  and  mineralogy 
for  the  reader  to  understand  it.  Suffice  it  to  sav  that  around  and 
38 


594 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


partly  over  an  original  granite  ridge  was  poured,  at  a  very  late  geolog- 
ical era,  an  enormous  flow 
of  porphyry,  or  trachyte; 
that  after  the  trachyte  had 
become  solid  rock  there  were 
terrible  convulsions  which 
split  and  cracked  it,  and 
through  the  cracks  gushed 
streams  of  obsidian,  or  vol- 
canic glass.  All  these  ap- 
pear as  they  hardened  into 
shape;  so  there  is  little 
wonder  that  the  district 
was  at  first  a  great  puzzle, 
seemingly  destined  to  over- 
throw many  old  theories. 
Of  course,  too,  there  was 
great  waste  at  first  in  work- 
ing this  peculiar  ore,  but 
with  experience  the  total 
cost  per  ton  for  mining  and 
milling  has  been  reduced  to 
about  seven  dollars.  This 
makes,  it  possible  to  work 
ten  ounce  ore  at  a  profit, 
and  as  the  supply  of  ore  of 
that  grade  is  practically  in- 
exhaustible, it  looks  as  if 
this  magic  district  would 
be  as  long-lived  as  it  was 
noted  for  sudden  growth. 
But  time  and  space  fail  me 
to  detail  each  of  the  rich 
districts  of  Colorado.  The 
following  table,  showing  the 
increase  in  the  population 
of  the  state  by  counties, 
will  give  the  reader  a  very 
fair  idea  of  the  localities  in 

which  the  richest  mines  have  been  developed,  since  the  crowd  invari- 
ably flocks  to  those  places  in  which  the  rich  metal  is  found: 


MINING  IN  1882. 


595 


COUNTIES. 

POPULATION 
1870. 

POPULATION 

1880. 

6,829 

38,607 

Bent                                

592 

1,654 

Boulder           .             

1,939 

10,055 

New 

6,503 

Clear  Creek  

1,596 

7,857 

Conejos                                            

2,504 

5,616 

Costilla                                            

1,779 

2,885 

Custer  ....                 

New 

7,968 

Dougl  as  

1,388 

2,486 

Elbert  

510 

1,710 

El  Paso  

987 

7,903 

Fremont                                   .         

1,064 

4,730 

Gilpin                       .         

5,490 

6,493 

Grand.         .  .        .       

New 

417 

Gunnison  

New 

8,764 

Hinsdale  

New 

1,508 

Hnerf  ano  

2,250 

4,149 

2,390 

6,811 

Lake                               

522 

23787 

La   PI  ata          

New 

1,110 

Larimer  

838 

4,862 

Las  Animas  

4,276 

8,909 

Ouray  

New 

2,677 

Park  

447 

3,956 

Pueblo  

2,265 

7,617 

Rio  Grande         

New 

1  946 

Routt  

New 

140 

Sa^uache  

304 

1  972 

San  Juan  

New 

1  087 

258 

5,449 

Weld  

1  636 

5603 

Total  

39864 

195  231 

An  increase  of  155,370  for  the  decade  just  gone  is  a  showing  of 
which  the  Centennial  state  should  feel  proud.  It  is  safe  to  predict  a 
still  greater  increase  for  the  ten  years  to  come. 

Almost  any  railroad  office  can  supply  you  a  table  of  distances  and 
fares  from  Denver  to  all  points  in  Colorado ;  and  from  eastern  cities  to 
Denver  rates  have  been  so  materially  reduced  that  the  cost  of  a  sum- 
mer in  the  Switzerland  of  America  is  brought  within  the  reach  of 
nearly  all  enfeebled  professional  men. 

Of  other  mining  regions  but  brief  mention  is  necessary.  In  the 
Black  Hills  a  prosperous  community  has  suddenly  grown  up  which 
already  challenges  the  attention  of  the  world ;  Nevada  continues  to 
pour  out  her  treasures,  and  generally  throughout  the  Rocky  Mountains 
the  business  of  mining  grows  with  pleasing  regularity.  The  following 


596  WESTERN  WILDS. 

table,  from  the  Mining  Commissioner  of  the  United  States,  shows  it 
better  at  a  glance  than  would  many  pages  of  comment: 

ANNUAL  PRODUCT  OF  LEAD,  SILVER,  AND  GOLD. 

1870 $52,150,000 

1871 55,784,000 

1872 60,351,824 

1873 ' 70,139,860 

1874 71,965,610 

1875 76,703,433 

1876 87,219,859 

1877 95,811,582. 

1878 78,276,167 

1879 , 72,688,888 

1880 77,232,512 

Total $798,323,735 

Adding  the  growth  of  1881,  and  omitting  the  lead,  we  find  that  the 
United  States  now  produces  annually  at  least  $78,000,000  in  silver 
and  gold.  Thus,  in 'the  language  of  Commissioner  Raymond,  "The 
western  states  and  territories  bear  witness  of  our  great  inheritance  of 
natural  wealth.  Every  period  of  geological  change  has  been  laid 
under  contribution  to  endow  with  rich  legacies  some  portion  of  our 
land.  Our  territory  epitomizes  the  processes  of  all  time,  and  their  use- 
ful results  to  man.  Divided,  yet  in  a  stronger  sense  united,  by 
mountain  chains  and  mighty  rivers,  our  diversified  mineral  resources 
may  figuratively  represent  and  literally  help  to  secure  and  maintain 
our  characteristic  national  life — a  vast  community  of  communities, 
incapable  alike  of  dissolution  and  of  centralization ;  one,  by  mutual 
needs  and  affections,  as  the  'continent  is  one;  many,  by  multiform 
industries  and  forms  of  life,  as  the  members  of  the  continent  are 
many." 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE    DEAD    PROPHET. 

WHILE  the  first  edition  of  this  work  was  going  through  the  press, 
the  telegraph  announced  the  death  of  Brigham  Young.  To  Americans 
generally  this  was  simply  a  bit  of  interesting  news,  for  this  man  was,  in 
the  language  of  Elijah  Pogram,  "  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of 
our  country."  But  what  Gentile  can  realize  the  awful  import  of  that 
message  to  the  75,000  orthodox  Mormons  of  Utah ;  to  the  4,000  Saints 
in  Great  Britain ;  to  the  converts  in  Scandinavia,  and  the  "  stakes  of 
Zion"  in  Arizona,  Idaho  and  the  Sandwich  Islands  In  1870  there 
were,  among  European  races,  but  three  persons  who  were  at  once 
heads  of  Church  and  State :  the  Pope,  Queen  Victoria  and  Brigham 
Young.  The  British  Church  is  not  yet  "  disestablished,"  but  the 
Pope  has  lost  his  temporal  power  and  Brigham  Young  is  dead.  It 
was  said,  a  few  years  since,  anent  the  Beecher  and  Clendenning  trials 
and  similar  cases,  "  This  is  a  hard  year  for  parsons."  Similarly : 
This  is  certainly  a  bad  period  for  theocrats.  We  may  yet  live  to  see 
the  Church  of  England  divorced  from  the  civil  power. 

I  am  no  believer  in  that  evasive  maxim :  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  bonum. 
Certainly  not,  when  the  dead  are  public  characters.  The  dead  were 
once  alive,  and  moral  responsibility  is  not  evaded  by  the  mere  physical 
incident  of  death ;  and  living  rulers  must  learn  to  act  with  the  as- 
sured conviction  that  they  will  be  judged  after  death.  Of  all,  there- 
fore, which  the  foregoing  pages  contain  regarding  Brigham  Young  I 
have  nothing  to  recant;  it  was  my  candid  conviction  when  I  wrote 
it — it  is  my  assured  belief  now.  That  it  will  be  the  unanimous  ver- 
dict of  posterity,  I  have  not  a  shadow  of  doubt.  It  was  not  written 
without  overwhelming  evidence  to  support  it ;  revelations  yet  to  be 
made  in  Utah,  and  hastened  by  Brigham's  death,  will  only  add  to 
that  evidence.  I  merely  ask  that  the  reader  will,  in  previous  chapters, 
substitute  the  past  tense  for  the  present  where  Brigham  is  mentioned. 
It  only  remains  to  add  a  few  incidents  in  the  life  of  this  remarkable 
adventurer ;  his  person  and  character  have  been  sufficiently  described 
in  Chapter  VI. 

Brigham  Young  was  born  June  1,  1801,  in  Whittingham,  Wind- 

(597) 


598  WESTERN  WILDS. 

ham  County,  Vermont.  His  father  was  an  old  Revolutionary  soldier, 
of  Massachusetts,  the  parent  of  six  sons  and  five  daughters.  This 
whole  family  embraced  Mormonism  soon  after  Brigham  did.  The 
father  died  in  one  of  the  early  migrations  of  the  Mormons  in  Mis- 
souri ;  the  sons  and  daughters  lived  to  go  into  polygamy  in  Utah,  and 
become  the  parents  of  large  families.  None  of  Brigham's  brothers 
ever  evinced  any  special  talent  for  any  thing.  Phinehas  and  Lorenzo 
Dow  Young  were  barely  mediocre;  "Uncle  John  "  Young  for  many 
years  was  Patriarch  of  the  Church,  but  was  a  mere  puppet  as  pulled 
by  Brigham;  Joseph  sometimes  preached,  but  with  no  particular 
force,  and  the  fifth  brottfer  was  of  so  little  consequence  that  his  name 
is  scarcely  known  ki  Utah.  Nor  did  any  of  them  acquire  property  to 
any  great  extent ;  at  least  two  were  so  poor  they  had  to  accept  assist- 
ance— it  might  be  called  charity — from  Brigham.  The  sisters  are 
equally  obscure.  Whatever  Brigham's  talent  was,  he  alone  of  the 
family  possessed  it.  I  have  repeatedly  talked  with  his  nephews  and 
grandchildren  concerning  him  ;  but  his  career  was  as  much  a  mystery 
to  them  as  to  the  Gentile  world.  Oscar  Young,  Brigham's  oldest 
child  in  polygamy,  is  now  a  thorough-going  Gentile,  and  a  frank, 
outspoken  gentleman;  "but  to  him,  as  to  strangers,  his  father's  real 
nature  was  a  sealed  book. 

Early  in  life  Brigham  married,  and  was  e/irly  left  a  widower  with 
two  daughters,  both  now  living  in  polygamy  in  Utah.  Mormonism 
first  took  form  as  a  religion  in  1830,  and  among  the  first  preachers 
sent  out  was  Samuel  H.  Smith,  youngest  brother  of  the  Prophet  Jo- 
seph. He  met  and  exhorted  Brigham,  and  almost  "  converted  "  him. 
A  little  later,  in  1832,  he  gave  in  his  adhesion  to  the  new  faith,  and 
was  baptized  by  Elder  Eleazar  Miller.  He  at  once  set  out  for 
Kirtland,  whither  the  young  church  was  gathering ;  came  upon  Joe 
Smith  while  the  latter  was  chopping  in  the  woods,  and,  according  to 
their  mutual  account,  was  at  once  blessed  exceedingly.  Joseph  pro- 
nounced him  a  man  of  wonderful  powers,  gifted  of  God  for  the 
furtherance  of  the  faith,  and  added  that  he  would  "  one  day  lead  the 
Church."  The  anti-Brighamite  Mormon  sects  add  that  Joseph  also 
said:  "And.  he  will  lead  it  to  hell."  He  should  have  said  so  if  he 
did  not,  for  it  has  proved  very  near  the  truth. 

Brigham  had  previously  quit  farm  life  to  become  a  painter  and 
glazier,  and  he  now  exercised  his  trade  upon  the  Temple  at  Kirt- 
laud,  glazing  the  windows  with  his  own  hands.  It  was  soon  discov- 
ered by  Joseph  that  Brigham  was  the  most  practical  of  all  his  con- 
verts; and,  as  that  sort  of  a  man  was  badly  needed,  he  advanced  rap- 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET.  599 

idly  in  rank.  The  new  church  was  now  on  the  high  tide  of  furious 
fanaticism.  The  accounts  given  by  a  score  of  eye-witnesses  would  be 
utterly  incredible,  did  we  not  know  from  undoubted  history,  what 
such  religious  mania  tends  to.  Visions,  dreams,  miracles,  speaking 
in  tongues  and  the  interpretation  of  tongues  followed  in  constant 
succession.  In  their  "  experience  meetings "  the  rule  was  for  each 
brother  to  rise  and  "  utter  whatsoever  sounds  came  in  his  mind,"  the 
speaker  being  assured  that  "  God  will  make  it  a  language."  Some 
men  professed  to  see  the  Saviour  and  various  holy  persons;  others 
ran  through  the  woods  shouting  and  praying;  some  fell  into  trances, 
and  many  recited  rhapsodies  or  delivered  prophecies.  Through  all 
this  madness,  Brigham,  it -is  generally  agreed,  carried  a  level  head. 
It  was  then  supposed  that  every  Saint  had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  but 
Joe  Smith  soon  returned  from  a  preaching  tour  in  Canada  and  the 
Eastern  States  and  rectified  that  matter.  It  was  announced  that  he 
alone  held  the  true  prophetic  gift.  The  general  madness  subsided; 
several  converts  apostatized,  and  by  their  statements,  published 
broadcast,  brought  great  scandal  on  the  Church. 

The  Saints  now  established  a  cooperative  mill,  store  and  bank ;  for, 
as  some  wealthy  men  had  joined,  they  were  able  to  collect  some 
$20,000  in  cash.  Meanwhile  the  neighboring  people  held  a  meeting 
and  deputized  one  of  thejr  number  to  go  back  to  Joe  Smith's  old 
home  in  New  York,  and  collect  evidence  as  to  his  character.  Sixty- 
six  of  his  old  neighbors  joined  in  an  affidavit  that  they  "would  not 
believe  Joseph  Smith  or  any  of  his  gang  under  oath."  It  was  also 
abundantly  proved  that  the  Book  of  Mormon  was  a  weak  rehash  of  a 
weak  "historical  novel,"  written  by  one  Solomon  Spaulding.  But 
such  evidence  has  no  effect  on  the  class  of  minds  caught  by  Mor- 
monism.  Troubles  increased  between  the  Saints  and  their  neighbors ; 
finally  mill,  store  and  bank  failed,  and  Smith  and  Rigdon  ran  away 
to  Missouri  to  escape  the  sheriff.  All  this  time  Brigham  labored  in 
his  steady  way,  and  was  known  among  the  brethren  as  "  hard-working 
Brigham  Young." 

The  Saints  had  made  their  first  settlement  in  Missouri,  at  Independ- 
ence, in  the  spring  of  1831,  but  were  driven  across  to  Clay  County  in 
the  fall  of  1833.  The  people  of  the  latter  county  "requested"  them 
to  move  again ;  so  they  settled  in  Ray  and  Caldwell,  built  the  town 
of  Far  West,  and  eventually  got  political  control  of  that  section. 
Then  trouble  arose,  of  course.  When  the  Mormons  elected  the  of- 
ficials there  was  no  justice  for  Gentiles,  and  the  latter  commenced  fight- 
ing. Brigham  had  meanwhile  been  advanced  to  the  rank  of  an  apostle, 


600  WESTERN  WILDS. 

and  was  credited  with  having  added  many  hundred  converts  to  the 
Church.  In  the  late  autumn  of  1838  open  war  broke  out.  Enraged  at 
some  of  their  neighbors  the  Mormons  drove  them  from  their  homes,  and 
eventually  burned  the  town  of  Gallatin.  They  had  previously  driven 
all  dissenters  away  from  Far  West.  In  the  first  regular  battle  that  en- 
sued Edward  Patton,  an  apostle,  was  killed;  and,  on  the  trials  following, 
Orson  Hyde,  President  of  the  Twelve,  turned  State's  evidence.  This 
left  Brigham  the  senior  apostle,  and  therefore  President.  But  the 
battle  went  against  the  Saints.  Joseph  and  Hyrum,  and  nearly  all  the 
leaders,  were  captured  and  imprisoned;  Brigham  and  others  escaped  to 
Illinois,  and  in  the  winter  of  1838-39  all  the  lay  members  followed 
them.  Joseph  and  the  others  escaped  early  in  1839,  and  the  Church 
was  once  more  organized,  with  Quincy,  Illinois,  as  head-quarters. 

Dr.  Isaac  Galland  at  that  time  owned  a  large  tract  of  land  at  the 
head  of  Des  Moines  Rapids,  on  the  Mississippi,  part  of  which  he 
deeded  to  Joe  Smith,  on  condition  that  he  would  settle  his  people 
there,  and  build  a  city.  Forthwith  Joe  had  a  revelation  that  that  was 
to  be  the  great  "Stake  of  Zion"  for  the  present;  sold  city  lots  at  high 
prices,  and  grew  very  wealthy,  while  the  magic  city  of  Nauvoo  sprang 
up.  Brigham  went  to  England ;  reorganized  the  British  mission ;  es- 
tablished, the  Millennial  Star,  which  has  ever  since  been  the  foreign 
organ  of  the  Saints ;  did  wonders  as  a  missionary,  and  came  home  in  a 
year  with  seven  hundred  and  sixty-nine  converts.  Thereafter  he  stood 
very  close  to  the  Prophet.  But  among  those  converts  was  a  pretty 
English  girl,  named  Martha  Brotherton,  whom  Brigham  wanted  for  a 
spiritual  wife ;  she  rebelled,  apostatized,  revealed  the  inner  workings 
of  the  Church,  and  thus  set  up  a  popular  outcry  against  the  Saints. 
Polygamy  was  regularly  established — so  says  the  revelation — in  1843; 
and  early  in  1844  a  paper  was  started  in  Nauvoo  by  some  opponents 
of  the  system,  called  the  Expositor.  It  was  "abated  as  a  nuisance"  by 
the  Saints,  for  which  Smith  and  his  brother  Hyrum  were  arrested; 
and  while  in  jail  they  were  murdered  by  a  mob,  June  27,  1844. 

The  Church  was  now  without  a  head.  Brigham,  as  President  of  the 
Twelve  Apostles,  claimed  that  they  should  govern  till  God  raised  up 
a  leader.  Sidney  Rigdon  claimed  the  right  of  succession,  because  he 
stood  next  in  rank  to  the  dead  Prophet;  William  Smith  claimed  it  as 
the  only  surviving  member  of  the  Smith  family;  and  Strang,  Brewster, 
Hedrick,  Cutler,  and  others  put  in  their  claims.  But  Brigham  circum- 
vented them  all.  Rigdon  had  a  revelation  that  the  wealthy  members 
led  by  him  were  to  found  a  new  "  stake  "  for  the  others  to  gather  to ; 
then  the  Church  would  grow  till  able  to  conquer  all  the  kingdoms  of 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET.  601 

the  earth;  he  would  lead  a  party  to  rebuild  Jerusalem,  "and  stop  at 
London  on  the  way  home  to  pull  the  nose  of  Little  Vic ! "  He  was 
brought  to  trial  as  an  impostor  and  disturber,  Brigham  acting  as 
principal  accuser;  was  "cut  off,  condemned,  and  delivered  to  the  buf- 
fetings  of  Satan  for  a  thousand  years."  About  a  hundred  voted  "  not 
guilty."  These  were  at  once  brought  to  trial  and  "  cut  off."  It  was 
then  moved,  and  unanimously  carried,  that  all  who  should  hereafter  ad- 
here to  Rigdon  should  be  "cut  off."  The  church  led  off  by  Rigdon  has 
long  since  gone  to  pieces,  and  he  died  not  long  ago  near  Pittsburgh. 
All  the  other  factions  have  broken  up,  and  the  remnants  reorganized  as 
"  Josephites,"  under  the  lead  of  young  Joe  Smith ;  except  that  a  small 
branch  exists  at  Independence,  Mo.,  and  in  that  vicinity.  The  main 
body  who  followed  the  Twelve — Brigham  being  then  merely  President 
of  the  Twelve — were  called  "  Twelveites ;  "  but  are  now  considered  the 
Mormon  Church  proper. 

It  was  not  long  till  Brigham  was  exercising  all  the  power  of  the 
apostolic  quorum,  the  other  eleven  soon  sinking  into  mere  lieutenants. 
He  finished  the  Temple,  hurried  the  people  through  their  "  endow- 
ments," in  which  they  were  bound  to  the  Church  by  the  most  terrible 
oaths,  and  hastened  the  preparations  for  departure.  In  January,  1846, 
he  and  eight  of  the  apostles  started  westward,  afld  with  them  2,000 
of  the  people.  Others  went  as  fast  as  they  could ;  by  May,  16,000 
Mormons  had  left,  and  not  more  than  2,000  remained  in  Nauvoo. 
But  an  irregular  war  with  their  neighbors  went  on;  and  in  Septem- 
ber, 1846,  a  body  of  1,000  or  1,500  militia  besieged  the  city  for  three 
days,  and  finally  expelled  the  remaining  Mormons  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet.  The  Saints  spent  the  fall  of  1846  and  ensuing  winter  and 
spring  in  a  line  of  camps  in  western  Iowa  and  eastern  Nebraska ;  and 
as  soon  as  possible  Brigham  started  with  one  hundred  and  forty-three 
men  to  hunt  a  location  "  in  some  valley  in  the  Rocky  Mountains." 
Before  leaving  Illinois  he  had  received  a  copy  of  Fremont's  Report 
from  Governor  Thomas  L.  Ford,  who  suggested  one  of  the  large  val- 
leys of  the  Wasatch  as  their  best  location.  The  pioneer  party  entered 
Salt  Lake  Valley  the  23d  of  July,  but  Brigham  had  remained  in  the 
caflon  and  did  not  come  in  till  the  next  day.  Reaching  the  present 
site  of  the  city  he  exclaimed :  "  This  is  the  place,"  and  ordered  a  halt 
at  once.  Prayer  was  offered,  a  plow  was  lifted  from  the  wagon,  and 
a  considerable  garden-spot  plowed  before  night.  A  heavy  thunder- 
shower  came  on  that  day — a  very  rare  occurrence  at  that  time  in  the 
Great  Basin  in  summer,  and  a  good  omen  to  the  Saints.  They  put  in 
a  crop,  from  which  those  who  stayed  gathered  potatoes  about  the  size 


602  WESTERN  WILDS. 

of  chestnuts,  and  other  things  in  proportion.  Brigham  returned  that 
autumn  to  Council  Bluffs,  and  at  a  conference  held  soon  after,  was 
chosen  to  all  the  honors  and  titles  of  the  dead  Prophet  Joseph. 
Thenceforward  Brigham  was  Prophet,  Priest,  Seer  and  Revelator, 
first  President  and  Trustee-in-trust  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of 
Latter-day  Saints.  The  Mormons  were  hurried  forward  to  the  valley 
as  fast  as  possible ;  there  a  pure  theocracy,  of  the  most  absolute  char- 
acter, was  established,  and  Brigham  ruled  as  Lord  temporal  and  spir- 
itual, till  late  in  1850,  when  Congress-organized  the  Territory  of  Utah. 

Meanwhile  the  Mormons  had  filled  the  country  with  written, 
printed,  and  sworn  denials  of  the  existence  of  polygamy,  and  Col. 
Thomas  L.  Kane  had  indorsed  their  denials ;  so  President  Fillmore 
appointed  Brigham  Young  Governor  of  the  new  Territory,  an  office 
he  held  till  1857.  The  President  appointed  one  Mormon  U.  S. 
District-Judge,  the  other  two  being  Gentiles ;  a  Mormon  District- 
Attorney,  and  a  Gentile  Secretary,  dividing  the  offices  very  fairly. 
Of  course  there  was  trouble.  Brigham  kept  the  people  in  such  an 
excited  state  that  the  two  Gentile  judges  soon  left — not  to  put  too  fine 
a  point  upon  it,  ran  away,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  Saints.  And 
soon  after,  at  the  annual  festival,  the  following  toast  was  rapturously 
applauded:  "Our  runaway  judges;  may  they  go  on  to  where  they 
belong — to  hell!"  And  to  further  demonstrate  his  loyalty  Brigham 
preached  a  sermon  on  the  "  earthly  reign  of  the  Saints,"  in  which  he 
said:  "In  that  day  the  chief  men  of  the  earth  will  come  to  us  begging 
for  a  place  ;  I  expect  the  President  of  the  United  States  to  black  my 
boots !  "  Polite  reference  to  the  gentleman  who  had  made  him  Gov- 
ernor. But  this  sort  of  thing  greatly  delighted  the  foreign-born 
serfs — natural  snobs — who  constituted  a  majority  of  the  Church  laity. 
Unfortunately  for  them,  Secretary  Harris  concluded  to  go  with  the 
judges;  and  in  spite  of  threats  and  injunctions,  carried  with  him  the 
$24,000  Congress  had  appropriated  to  pay  the  legislature  of  the  new 
Territory,  and  the  Mormons  never  got  a  cent  of  it.  This  hurt  Brig- 
ham — right  where  he  lived.  He  did  not  get  reconciled  to  it,  till  long 
after  he  had  become  a  millionaire. 

In  1854,  President  Pierce  decided  to  appoint  another  governor,  but 
could  find  no  suitable  person  to  take  the  place.  More  judges  were 
appointed,  and  things  ran  along  pretty  smoothly  till  1856,  when  the 
climax  of  Mormon  fanaticism  was  reached ;  murder  by  wholesale  was 
inaugurated,  the  judges  were  driven  out,  and  the  Mormon  war  began. 
As  a  result  of  that  war,  Brigham  ceased  to  be  Governor ;  and  a  some- 
what better  state  of  things  was  established.  We  have  now  done  with 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET.  603 

Brigham  as  a  Federal  official,  backed  by  the  authority  of  the  United 
States ;  it  is  time  to  consider  him  as  a  marrying  man,  a  husband  and 
a  father,  in  which  capacity  he  is  most  popularly  known.  Brigham 
had  two  reasons  for  being  a  marrying  man :  ambition  and  a  vigorous, 
sensual  physique.  He  had  a  peculiar  magnetic  power  over  some 
people.  The  way  it  affected  some  women  may  be  guessed  from  the 
fact  that  one  of  the  handsomest  ladies  in  Nauvoo  got  divorced  from  a 
good  man,  in  order  to  be  Brigham's  concubine,  and  a  refined,  rather 
intelligent  Boston  lady  literally  followed  him  oif,  taking  along  her  two 
children  to  be  reared  in  Mormonism.  Brigham  was  rather  kind  to 
this  one:  called  her  "Augusta,"  and  honored  her  with  his  supreme 
affections  for  three  whole  years. 

Brigham's  physique  was  the  very  best  that  cool,  hardy  Vermont 
could  furnish.  His  youngest  child,  daughter  of  Margaret  Van  Cott 
Young,  was  born  in  1870;  his  oldest,  now  the  wife  of  Edmund  Ells- 
,  worth,  must  have  been  born  as  early  as  1825,  for  Brigham  was  a 
widower  with  two  daughters  when  he  joined  the  Mormons ;  and  his 
grandchildren  in  this  line  are  now  well  advanced  men  and  women. 
So  his  active  parental  life  covered  a  period  of  forty-five  years,  and 
(though  I  have  no  late  returns)  his  children,  grandchildren,  and 
great-grandchildren  number  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty.  Not  bad 
for  an  alkali  country !  Add  widows  and  sons-in-law,  and  grandsons- 
in-law,  and  the  number  interested  in  the  estate  amounted  to  some  two 
hundred. 

The  old  man  outlasted  three  generations  of  wives,  and  had  made 
a  pretty  good  start  on  the  fourth ;  for  he  married  Amelia  Folsom  in 
1865,  and  the  last  time  I  saw  her  she  was  beginning  to  look  like  an 
old  woman.  Brigham  lost  his  first  wife  quite  young.  Her  daughters 
are  both  in  polygamy — that  is,  their  husbands  have  other  "  women  " 
than  them,  and  have  large  families.  Their  daughters  also  have  many 
children,  and,  counting  his  first  and  second  wives,  it  is  said  by  some, 
who  ought  to  know,  that  Brigham's  legitimate  offspring  are,  after  all, 
nearly  as  numerous  as  his  illegitimate.  About  the  time  he  was  "  con- 
verted," he  married  Mary  Ann  Angell.  She  was  his  only  legal  widow 
and  lived  for  many  years  in  the  "white  cottage  on  the  bench" — 
that  is,  on  the  hill  just  back  of  Brigham's.  She  was  of  the  same  age 
as  Brigham,  and  about  1843,  he  began  on  his  second  lot  of  wives. 
Joe  Smith  got  his  "  Revelation  on  Celestial  Marriage,"  July  12,  1843, 
and  as  soon  thereafter  as  Brigham  could  get  authority,  he  married  the 
Decker  sisters.  One  of  them,  Lucy,  had  been  for  some  time  married 
to  Dr.  Seely,  a  reputable  physician  of  Nauvoo,  but  the  High  Council 


604  WESTERN  WILDS. 

unceremoniously  set  that  marriage  aside ;  Brigham  took  her,  and  the 
doctor  went  to  "  grass." 

His  fourth  wife  was  Harriet  Cook,  whom  he  took  soon  after  the 
exodus  from  Nauvoo ;  but  she  was  a  "  rebellious  spirit,"  and  at 
Winter  Quarters  (now  Florence,  Nebraska),  "the  devil  entered  in*o 
and  did  possess  her."  (For  "possession,"  and  the  plan  of  relief 
adopted,  see  Captain  Dan  Jones'  account  in  the  llth  volume  of  the 
Millennial  Star;  also,  Pratt's  Key  to  Theology,  and  other  Mormon 
works.)  As  a  result  she  railed  on  Brigham,  and  denounced  polygamy, 
and  ended  by  trying  to  strangle  her  baby,  Oscar  Young.  Brigham 
managed  to  prevent  that,  and  in  due  time  "  the  devil  left  her ; "  but 
he  swore  she  should  never  become  a  mother  the  second  time.  And 
she  did  not.  He  married  a  few  more  wives  while  establishing  the 
settlement  in  Utah ;  but  all  of  this  lot  retired  from  business  as  early 
as  1855  or  1860. 

His  great  favorite  then,  and  the  one  who  retained  his  affections  the 
longest,  was  Emmeline  Free,  from  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire. 
And  she  was  truly  a  lovely  woman.  Her  children  are,  I  think,  the 
handsomest  of  Brigham's  offspring,  and  she  bore  him  ten.  He  was 
proud  of  her  beauty  and  accomplishments,  and  for  at  least  twelve  years 
she  was  beyond  question  the  queen  of  his  heart.  But  youth  and 
beauty  can't  last  always,  and  about  1865,  Brigham  began  to  hanker 
for  a  new  deal.  Then  Emmeline  became  desperate.  She  applied  to 
Mary  Ann  Angell,  the  first  wife,  for  help  to  prevent  another  marriage, 
but  the  latter  was  long  past  taking  any  interest  in  such  things.  After 
two  or  three  trials  with  rather  common  wives,  who  did  not  please  him 
more  than  a  few  months,  Brigham's  affections  twined  around  Amelia 
Folsom ;  and  there  they  clung  till  his  death,  save  for  a  few  side  dis- 
turbances, most  noted  of  which  was  the  alimonious  Ann  Eliza.  Em- 
meline was  literally  heart-broken,  and,  to  add  to  her  troubles,  she  had 
to  bear  the  reproaches  and  taunts  of  those  she  had  once  displaced. 
She  took  to  opium  for  consolation,  and  died  in  the  summer  of  1875,  a 
perfect  wreck — a  confirmed  "  morphine  drunkard  !  " 

I  think  it  was  about  a  week  after  the  burial  of  Emmeline  (she  was 
buried  with  surprising  indifference  to  details  and  appearances)  that 
we  had  a  large  party  of  excursionists  from  the  East.  They  all  called 
on  Brigham,  and  paid  their  most  profound  respects,  and  were  posi- 
tively indignant  at  some  of  us  resident  Gentiles  for  the  war  we  made  on 
the  hierarchy.  One  lady  took  me  to  task  very  severely,  and  afterward 
sent  me  a  clipping  from  an  Eastern  paper,  with  her  able  defense  of 
Brigham  therein.  I  like  to  hear  Eastern  people  apologize  for  polyg- 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET. 


605 


amy — especially  ladies.     They  go  about  it  so  logically,  and  it  sounds 
so  natural. 

"Well,  Amelia  became  the  recognized  Queen  of  the  Harem  in  1866, 
and  ruled  the  old  fellow  ever  after.  It  was  hinted  that  she  knew  too 
much,  and  that  he  would  have  liked  to  "shake"  her,  but  did  not 
dare.  All  the  style  of  all  the  other  wives  put  together  would  not 
equal  hers.  She  occupied  an  elegant  palace  built  for  her  sole  self, 


THE  MORMON  TABERNACLE. 


across  the  street  from  the  main  hennery,  and  generally  lives  more  like 
the  wife  of  a  millionaire  and  great  leader,  than  did  any  of  her 
predecessors.  Brigham  enjoyed  four  or  five  flirtations  after  1866,  and 
married  a  time  or  two,  but  none  of  them  amounted  to  any  thing.  It 
would  appear  that  Ann  Eliza  rather  thought  she  could  supersede 
Amelia,  and  did  hold  her  own  well  for  a  few  months,  but  the  other 
soon  knocked  her  clear  out  of  the  ring.  Hence  these  tears.  Margaret 
Van  Cott,  one  of  the  latest,  is  a  good  woman,  and  a  mother,  too ;  and 
it  is  said  this  last  circumstance  irritates  Amelia  more  than  any  thing 
else.  She  has  not  been  at  all  reticent  in  her  insinuations  about  "thai 


606  WESTERN  WILDS. 

woman's  baby,"  but  nobody  believes  such  charges;  the  character  of 
Margaret  is  too  well  established.  Saint  and  Gentile  are  willing  to 
swear  that  her  little  girl  is  honestly  entitled  to  the  two  hundredth 
part  of  that  big  estate. 

But  there  was  one  woman,  Selina  Ursenbach,  who,  could  Brigham 
have  won  her,  would  have  made  it  lively  for  Amelia.  She  was  the 
sister  of  Octave  Ursenbach,  famous  in  Utah  as  the  architect  who  de- 
signed the  big  organ  in  the  Mormon  Tabernacle.  Brigham  was  in 
love  for  the  thirtieth  time,  and  his  love  was  warm — warmer  than  his 
youthful  passion  in  a  geometrical  progression.  Selina  was  a  young, 
beautiful  Swiss  lady.  She  played  on  all  musical  instruments,  and 
spoke  the  purest  French.  Brigham  made  himself  a  perfect  dandy  for 
her  sake.  She  smiled  on  a  young  fellow,  and  Brigham  sent  him  away 
on  a  mission.  Then  Selina  got  disgusted,  apostatized  from  the  Church, 
and  went  back  to  Switzerland.  But  if  Brigham  could  have  lived  out 
his  days,  as  nature  intended,  he  might  in  turn  have  set  aside  Amelia, 
and  gone  on  with  the  fifth  generation  of  "  wives  "  in  the  old  style,  as 
when  in  his  prime  his  affection  was  a  flowering  annual,  or  semi-annual, 
blooming  anew  every  spring  and  fall,  and  clinging  to  new  supports 
each  time. 

To  conclude,  those  best  informed  sum  up  thus :  Brigham  had  from 
first  to  last  been  actually  married  twenty-nine  times;  the  largest  num- 
ber of  wives  he  ever  had  at  one  time  was  twenty-three,  of  whom  fif- 
teen survive  him.  But  he  had  been  "sealed,"  on  the' "spiritual  wife" 
system,  to  quite  a  number  of  pious  old  ladies,  with  whom  he  had 
nothing  to  do  in  this  world,  but  who  are  to  be  his  in  eternity ;  and  of 
his  actual  wives  four  belong  to  Joe  Smith,  having  been  the  latter's  at 
Nauvoo,  and  being  destined  for  him  in  eternity.  And  do  the  women 
believe  this  sort  of  thing?  asks  an  amazed  reader.  "Well,  some  of 
them  do,  and  the  rest  fall  in  with  the  prevailing  tendency  of  the 
society  they  move  in,  just  as  the  majority  of  women  do  every-where. 
Take  women  as  a  mass,  and  that  which  is  established  is  right.  And 
right  here  I  would  protest  against  that  arrant  stupidity,  so  common  in 
the  East,  that  men  alone  are  responsible  for  polygamy ;  that  the 
"poor  women  are  the  victims,"  and  that  women  would,  under  cer- 
tain circumstances,  put  a  stop  to  it.  It  is  akin  to  that  spurious  and 
sickly  sensibility  of  the  French  school  (see  Victor  Hugo  and  Wilkie 
Collins),  which  makes  a  prostitute  the  heroine  of  the  drama;  and 
has  maudlin  sentiment  for  "Mercy  Merrick"  and  "Fantine,"  but  sar- 
casm for  the  honest  woman.  It  certainly  requires  no  great  amount 
of  robust  common  sense  to  see  that  sexual  sin  requires  two  sinners ; 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET.  607 

and  that  in  such  a  matter  the  woman  knows  right  from  wrong  as  well 
as  the  man.  The  young  woman  who  joins  herself  to  a  man  who 
already  has  a  wife,  does  so  in  the  confident  belief  that  she  will  always 
be  his  favorite ;  and  when  she  is  in  turn  discarded,  she  has  none  but 
herself  to  blame. 

Well,  Brigham  was  buried  with  great  pomp — though  his  grave  is 
now  sadly  neglected  and  unadorned — and  two  questions  at  once 
pressed  for  solution:  who  was  to  succeed,  and  who  to  get  his  property? 
There  was  no  law  and  no  well  established  precedent  in  either  case. 
Utah  had  no  marriage  act,  no  dower  law,  and  no  statute  strictly  pro- 
viding for  descent  and  distribution  of  property.  When  a  polygamist 
died,  the  church  took  charge  of  and  divided  the  estate  according  to 
their  notions  of  equity.  When  the  United  States  courts  were  estab- 
lished, a  few  first  wives  came  in  and  claimed  their  legal  rights,  exclud- 
ing polygamous  wives  and  children  entirely.  It  would  seem,  then, 
that  if  Brigham's  legitimate  children  had  chosen  to  do  so,  they  could 
have  taken  the  whole  estate,  which  was  roughly  appraised  at 
$1,200,000.  But  the  church  had  an  enormous  claim  against  Brigham, 
amounting,  as  some  asserted,  to  $1,500,000.  Some  of  the  children 
protested  and  threatened  legal  proceedings;  one  actually  commenced  a 
suit;  but  cooler  counsels  prevailed;  and  as  all  the  illegitimates  were  on 
the  same  terms,  they  finally  settled  in  a  way  not  known  to  the  world, 
and  very  disgusting  to  the  lawyers.  It  was  simply  impossible  to 
make  a  legal  decision  as  to  what  property  was  actually  his  and  what 
that  of  the  church,  for  the  title  of  all  was  vested  in  him.  So,  as  sup- 
posed, the  family  got  a  third  or  more,  the  church  at  least  half,  and  it 
is  safe  to  suppose  that  a  large  per  cent,  stuck  to  the  fingers  of  those 
apostles  who  managed  the  settlement. 

And  then  came  the  surprise.  It  had  long  been  supposed  by  Gen- 
tiles, and  secretly  dreaded  by  Mormons,  that  Brigham's  death  would 
be  the  beginning  of  the  end — of  a  dispute  about  the  succession,  end- 
ing in  apostasy  and  schism.  On  the  contrary  matters  were  managed  as 
easily  as  when  Arthur  succeeded  Garfield.  The  Twelve  Apostles 
took  charge,  just  as  the  same  body  did  after  Joe  Smith's  death,  and 
in  due  time  John  Taylor,  President  of  the  Twelve,  just  as  Brigham 
had  climbed  to  the  seat  of  Joseph,  succeeded  to  all  the  honors  and 
titles  of  the  deceased  Brigham.  Orson  Hyde,  former  President  of  the 
Twelve,  had  been  deposed  and  invited  to  a  lower  seat  in  the  quorum ; 
and  it  was  well  for  the  Saints  that  it  was  so,  for  he  was  a  constitu- 
tional blunderer,  given  to  indulgence  in  red  hot  prophecies  which  were 
generally  falsified  before  they  were  a  year  old.  Orson  Pratt  was  the 


608  WESTERN  WILDS. 

best,  indeed  the  only,  scholar  among  the  twelve,  but  a  dreaming  as- 
tronomer whose  head  was  among  the  stars.  In  his  prime  he  was 
quite  a  man,  and  his  noted  debate  with  Dr.  J.  P.  Newman  sho\ved 
some  talent,  but  he  was  even  then  falling  into  rapid  decay,  and  has 
since  died  very  poor,  much  broken  in  mind  and  wretchedly  neglected. 
George  Q.  Cannon,  then  delegate  in  Congress,  had  long  schemed  for 
the  succession  and  would  have  filled  Brigham's  place  quite  fairly;  but 
Taylor  had  a  warmer  place  in  the  Mormon  heart,  and  for  the  few 
years  he  has  to  live  he  will  enjoy,  with  Queen  Victoria,  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  a  joint  spiritual  and  temporal  sovereign — these  two  the 
only  ones  in  the  civilized  world  since  Victor  Emanuel  took  his  states 
from  the  Pope. 

There  is  something  ludicrous  and  suggestive  in  the  total  collapse  of 
all  the  great  plans  Brigham,  and  Joseph  Smith  before  him,  had  made 
for  their  sons.  Joseph  had  ordained  his  son  Joseph,  Avho  is  now  ac- 
knowledged by  the  Josephites,  and  Brigham  had  relied  on  his  son 
Brigham  to  succeed  him.  The  latter  is  familiarly  known  as  the  Fat 
Boy,  and  his  father  tried  long  and  earnestly  to  make  him  a  ruler,  but 
it  was  a  hopeless  case.  The  people  laughed  at  it  even  before  the 
senior's  death.  For  awhile  the  father  placed  his  hopes  on  his  son 
Joseph  A.,  who  was  a  decidedly  pleasant  and  liberal  minded  gentle- 
man ;  but,  alas,  he  looked  upon  the  Valley  Tan  when  it  was  red,  and 
died  suddenly,  in  1875,  of  whisky  cramp.  Then  the  father's  heart 
turned  to  John  W.,  then  called  his  apostate  son,  who  had  left  the 
church  and  married  a  lady  in  Philadelphia.  Excited  with  an  ambi- 
tion to  succeed  his  father,  he  repudiated  his  Gentile  (and  truly  gentle) 
wife,  was  rebaptized  into  the  church,  took  some  more  wives,  and 
was  made  First  Councilor — only  one  remove  from  head.  His  crimi- 
nal compliance  was  in  vain.  He  believed  in  Mormon  ism  no  more 
than  you  or  I,  and  the  Mormon  people  knew  it.  He  was  not  even 
mentioned  for  the  place. 

But  a  few  years  more  and  all  the  original  Mormons  will  be 
gone,  Taylor  among  them.  Soon  or  late  I  fancy  those  who  hold 
out  faithful  will  find  themselves  adhering  to  one  of  the  sous  of  Joe 
Smith,  for  they  alone  have  prophecy  in  their  favor.  Nobody  need 
hope  that  Mormondom  will  suddenly  dissolve.  I  lack  space  to  show 
why  the  mass  of  the  people  must  hold  together ;  but  for  years  to  come 
they  dare  not  dissolve.  Two  or  three  thousand  men  and  four  times 
as  many  women  are  in  polygamy;  they  must  stick  to  an  institution 
which  confers  a  sort  of  respectability  on  their  condition.  Twenty 
thousand  young  people  are  of  polygamous  birth^  As  long  as  possible 


THE  DEAD  PROPHET.  609 

they  will  sustain  laws  and  social  customs  which  make  them  legitimate. 
Two  hundred  Mormons  have  committed  murder.  Once  break  the 
solid  alignment  that  now  exists,  divide  them  into  sects  fighting  each 
other,  and  the  Gentile  courts  would  have  these  men  on  the  scaffold  in 
two  years.  Of  those  not  in  polygamy,  two-thirds  have  near  relatives 
in  it.  They  can  not  easily  cut  loose  and  stigmatize  these.  In 
property  matters  they  are  inextricably  entangled.  By  the  "Order  of 
Enoch,"  the  "  consecration  of  property,"  and  the  "  perfect  oneness  in 
Christ,"  their  homesteads  have  been  deeded  back  and  forward,  tied 
over  and  under  and  criss-crossed,  so  there  is  no  getting  out  till  all  are 
willing  to  go  and  settle  things  on  a  basis  of  pure  equity.  The  apos- 
tates must  have  a  clear  majority  of  three  to  one  before  they  can  do 
any  thing,  for  the  elders  hold  the  strings. 

Through  every  part  of  the  social  organism  runs  a  complex  set  of 
stringers,  which  will  bind  it  together  till  all  the  old  Mormons  die. 
The  process  of  disintegration  may  be  rapid  enough  to  end  it  in  ten 
years,  but  I  doubt  it.  And  at  least  half  of  them  still  believe  the 
faith;  the  women  being  twice  as  fanatical  as  the  men.  It  may  inter- 
est some  people  to  know  that  the  mens  conscia  redi,  of  which  some 
religionists  boast,  is  but  a  trifle  to  the  women's  conscia  recti ;  and 
both  are  always  the  strongest  in  the  lower  religious  types.  Or,  in 
plain  English,  the  bigger  fool  a  man  is  the  more  positive  is  he  that 
he  knows  the  design  of  God;  and,  other  things  being  equal,  the 
woman  is  more  positive  than  the  man. 

Nothing  used  to  vex  us  more  when  I  lived  in  Utah,  than  the 
amiable  folly  of  certain  Eastern  people  who  imagined  that  this,  or 
that,  or  the  other  trifling  agency  would  put  an  end  to  theocratic 
tyranny.  But  above  all  others  were  we  annoyed  and  hindered  by 
the  nonsense  of  those  who  fancied  the  Mormon  women  would  effect 
a  revolution  by  their  votes!  Who  does  not  know  that  if  the  women 
were  opposed  to  polygamy,  it  could  not  exist  anyhow? 

The  growing  society  follows  pretty  closely  the  analogy  of  the 
human  body.  Introduce  a  foreign  substance,  and  an  effort  .is  made 
to  expel  it;  if  unsuccessful,  the  organism  at  once  begins  to  accommo- 
date itself  thereto,  and  does  it  or  dies.  Similarly,  whatever  custom  or 
social  anomaly  you  introduce  into  a  society,  that  society  immediately 
begins  to  adapt  itself  thereto,  and  in  a  surprisingly  short  space  of  time 
all  the  petty  observances  and  habits  of  thought  are  adjusted  to  the  cus- 
tom. Take  the  most  pronounced  monogamist  to  Utah  and  let  him 
live  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Mormons  for  awhile,  and  all  the  nov- 
elty vanishes ;  he  hears  people  talk  of  first,  second,  and  third  wives 
39 


610  WESTERN  WILDS. 

with  scarcely  a  thought.  It  is  the  control  the  church  exercises  over 
business  and  government  that  perpetually  irritates  him — theocracy,  not 
polygamy,  is  the  object  of  his  hate. 

And  this,  too,  aids  in  giving  us  the  proper  estimate  of  the  inexcus- 
able folly  of  learned  ministers  who  go  to  Utah  to  argue  the  question  on 
Old  Testament  grounds.  Just  as  if  polygamy,  slavery,  incest,  and  ex- 
terminating wars  were  right  now,  because  wandering  patriarchs  in  the 
childhood  of  the  world  were  excused  in  the  practice  of  them.  Even 
if  Hebrew  polygamy  could  be  proved  right,  Mormon  polygamy  would 
be  all  the  more  wrong,  because  it  permits  the  marriage  of  close  blood 
relatives.  Incest,  as  allowed  in  Utah,  would  be  just  as  much  under 
the  ban  of  law  if  the  Bible  had  never  been  written ;  for  its  criminality 
depends  not  on  a  command,  but  on  a  law  of  nature,  and  the  more  civil- 
ized a  people  become  the  more  deadly  and  destructive  is  the  crime. 
Savages  have  no  hereditary  diseases :  their  mode  of  life  kills  all  sickly 
stocks,  and  only  the  fittest  survive.  But  in  civilized  life  one  half  the 
families  have  some  tendency  to  scrofula,  insanity,  or  consumption. 
The  chances  are  even  that  two  cousins  have  inherited  a  common  tend- 
ency from  the  common  ancestor ;  if  they  marry,  that  tendency  is 
doubled  or  quadrupled  in  their  offspring.  If  one  marries  an  alien 
with  a  different  temperament,  they  may  justly  hope  to  have  inherited 
diverse  tendencies  which  may  neutralize  each  other  and  let  the  offspring 
escape  both.  It  is  the  marriage  of  near  relatives  which  has  been  the 
curse  of  Spain,  and  is  the  special  curse  of  Utah  polygamy ;  if  the  cus- 
tom continues,  the  pure  Mormon  stock  must  die  out  or  retrograde,  in 
physiological  self-defense,  to  barbarism. 

But  my  own  opinion  is  that  Mormonism  is  on  the  decline.  Old 
Mormons  die,  young  ones  grow  up  infidels ;  the  boys  take  to  Gentile 
ways,  and  the  girls,  wherever  practicable,  get  into  the  Gentile  towns, 
sometimes  to'  marry  Gentiles,  quite  as  often  to  practice  polygamy 
without  the  troublesome  intervention  of  the  priest.  Thus,  in  the 
future  as  for  the  past  ten  years,  the  system  will  slowly  wear  out,  with 
some  misery  and  much  corruption.  The  young  people  will  abandon 
the  old  folks'  religion  and  have  no  education  to  take  its  place.  The 
social  fabric  will  for  awhile  fall  'into  chaos,  and  Utah  will  pass 
through  a  season  of  moral  storm  before  the  better  day  conies. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

WHERE   SHALL  WE   SETTLE? 

FIVE  million  Americans  are  asking  this  question.  They  will  take 
Greeley's  advice  and  go  West;  but  are  as  yet  undecided  as  to  locality. 
Let  us  therefore  briefly  note  the  good  and  bad  features  of  various 
sections.  Imprimis,  then,  there  is  no  paradise  in  the  West;  no 
region  where  one  will  not  find  serious  drawbacks  in  climate,  soil  or 
society. 

If  you  like  a  middle  northern  clime,  there  is  no  better  place  than 
southern  Minnesota  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  Dakota.  These  have 
one  great  advantage  over  northern  Iowa:  the  vacant  land  is  still  in 
the  market  at  government  prices ;  in  Iowa  it  has  been  granted  too 
extensively,  and  railroads  and  speculators  own  too  much  of  it  in 
large  bodies.  In  the  long  run  they  lose  money  by  holding  it  in  this 
way ;  they  would  do  well  to  sell  and  invest  elsewhere ;  but  they  have 
not  found  that  out  yet.  By  and  by  the  residents  will  learn  how  to 
make  non-resident  land  pay  all  the  taxes,  as  it  now  pays  quite  half, 
and  then  the  speculators  will  sell  cheap;  but  at  present  it  would  be 
advisable  to  locate  where  there  is  not  so  much  non-resident  land. 
The  arguments  now  so  common  against  these  grants  apply  only  to  the 
border  States;  all  the  land  given  to  the  railroads  west  of  longitude  100, 
was  not  worth  one  day's  debate  in  Congress.  The  income  from  it  will 
never  pay  interest  at  a  dollar  an  acre.  The  climate  of  Minnesota 
may  be  divided  thus;  summer,  four  months;  winter,  five  months; 
spring  and  autumn,  six  weeks  each.  In  fact  it  is  less  than  six  weeks 
from  the  end  of  the  snowy  season  to  the  coming  of  early  fruits;  but 
they  call  it  spring  the  first  of  April,  though  the  snow  be  six  inches 
deep. 

The  quickness  of  vegetation  is  amazing.  In  August,  along  the 
Blue-Earth  River,  one  can  scarcely  believe  he  is  not  in  a  tropical 
country;  the  heavy  forests  of  lynn  and  walnut,  the  groves  of  sugar 
maple  supporting  a  dense  leafy  mass,  the  dark  green  vistas  and  rich 
natural  parks,  with  the  rank  grass  on  the  prairies  seem  out  of  place 
so  far  north.  By  November  this  gives  way  to  snow,  which  remains 
till  April  first  or  tenth.  It  then  seems  to  disappear  all  at  once.  The 


612  WESTERN  WILDS. 

black  sandy  soil  dries  out  thoroughly  iu  a  week;  but  the  air  is  still 
cool  enough  to  justify  an  overcoat,  and  for  a  fortnight  there  are  only 
brown  plains  and  gray  woods,  with  no  hint  of  dawning  life.  A  few 
dayg  of  warmth,  and  there  is  a  swelling  and  fluttering  perceptible  an 
the  bosom  of  nature ;  then  grass,  bush,  branch  and  vine  spring 
quickly  into  living  green,  and  in  one  month  tropic  luxuriance  suc- 
ceeds wintry  death.  But  September  clothes  this  region  in  its  most 
attractive  dress.  The  frost  turns  one  thicket  purple,  another  bright 
red  or  golden  yellow,  while  the  large  timber  is  still  green ;  through 
the  glades  blows  the  cool  and  stimulating  air,  and  over  all  is  the  soft 
blue  sky  of  the  Garden  State. 

The  advantages  of  this  country  are:  abundant  timber  and  running 
water,  regular  and  exceedingly  healthful  climate,  fertile  soil,  freedom 
from  droughts  and  freshets,  and  land  of  excellent  quality  still  to  be 
had  at  reasonable  rates.  Its  disadvantages :  a  long  cold  winter  and 
occasional  liability  to  grasshoppers — the  latter,  however,  very  rare. 
The  vegetable  productions  are  remarkable,  though  report  sometimes 
exaggerates.  Tradition  tells  of  one  Minnesota  Granger  who  happened 
to  be  examining  a  cucumber  just  as  the  season  of  rapid  growth  set 
in.  As  he  backed  out  to  give  it  room,  the  growing  vine  followed 
him  so  rapidly  that  he  took  to  his  heels,  but  was  soon  overtaken. 
It  grew  all  around  him,  tangled  up  his  legs,  and  threw  him  down. 
Reaching  in  great  haste  for  his  knife  to  cut  himself  loose,  ne  found 
that  a  cucumber  had  gone  to  seed  in  his  breeches  pocket. 

The  adjoining  part  of  Dakota  has  similar  climate  and  soil,  but  two 
disadvantages :  there  is  less  timber  and  more  wind.  But  land  is 
much  cheaper.  Hundreds  of  sections  in  every  county  can  still  be 
had  at  Government  rates ;  and  in  the  older  settlements  improved 
farms  can  even  now  be  bought  very  cheap.  Timber  grows  rapidly, 
and  all  the  old  settlers  assure  me  they  soon  grow  accustomed  to  the 
wind.  I  have  noticed  in  all  my  western  wanderings  that  the  regions 
of  abundant  wind  are  those  most  free  from  malaria.  The  only  ex- 
ception, if  it  is  one,  is  in  the  Indian  Territory,  where  there  is  wind 
enough,  and  yet  much  complaint  on  the  score  of  fever  and  ague. 
Despite  my  experience  with  the  high  winds  of  Dakota,  I  am  inclined 
to  set  down  as  fabulous  the  statement  sometimes  made  by  the  envious, 
that  an  old  Dakotian  can  not  talk  if  the  wind  suddenly  stops  blow- 
ing. So  used  to  it,  you  know. 

Iowa  I  have  already  described  at  some  ( length.  I  can  not  get  rid 
of  the  impression  that  the  northern  part  of  it  is  colder  than  the 
neighboring  part  of  Minnesota.  There  is  less  timber,  and  the  wind 


WHERE  SHALL  WE  SETTLE?  613 

has  a  fairer  fling  at  a  man.  Artificial  groves  grow  rapidly,  and  the 
soil  is  of  great  fertility.  And  if  you  find  there  is  too  much  non-res- 
ident land  in  your  vicinity,  you  can  help  your  good  neighbors  stick 
the  taxes  on  it  till  the  owner  is  willing  to  sell  for  whatever  he  can 
get.  I  have  a  friend  who  has  paid  $620  taxes  in  ten  years,  on  a  quar- 
ter section  of  Iowa  land,  and  is  now  ready  to  sell  to  some  man  who 
owns  a  gold  mine  or  a  spouting  oil-well.  We  have  all  heard  of  the 
man  who  ate  so'  much  it  made  him  poor  to  carry  it.  Similarly,  some 
people  own  so  much  western  land  that  it  will  break  them  up  to  keep 
it.  The  settlers  do  not  intend  that  non-residents  shall  get  the  bene- 
fit of  their  hard  pioneering — and  who  shall  blame  them  ? 

Let  us  go  a  little  further  south.  Northern  Nebraska  I  know  but 
little  about,  but  in  the  southern  part  of  that  State  is  a  region  which 
seems  to  me  peculiarly  inviting  to  men  from  the  Middle  Northern 
States.  "South  Platte,"  as  this  division  is  called,  contains  at  least 
25,000  square  miles  of  fertile  land,  of  which  one-half  or  more  is  for 
sale  quite  cheap.  The  climate  is  perceptibly  milder  than  that  of 
"North  Platte,"  and  all  the  fruits  and  grains  of  the  temperate  zone 
a-re  produced  on  a  generous  soil.  Along  the  line  of  the  Burlington 
and  Missouri  River  Railroad  land  is  held  at  high  rates,  but  in  the  rest 
of  the  country  it  can  be  bought  at  from  five  to  eight  dollars  per  acre. 
There  is  no  government  land  in  this  section  worth  naming.  The 
climate  is  about  like  that  of  central  Ohio,  with  dryer  winters  and 
more  wind.  This  last  you  may  retain  as  a  general  statement  as  to  all 
the  border  States.  Society  is  most  excellent.  The  population  is  in- 
telligent and  progressive,  and  nowhere  does  a  man  find  himself  out 
of  reach  of  the  church  and  school-house.  Going  westward  on  any 
line  one  will  find  the  winters  growing  dryer,  also  more  "airish."  So 
the  doubting  emigrant  may  ask  himself  "  whether  'tis  nobler  in  a  man 
to  suffer"  cold  healthful  winds,  to  have  dry  roads  and  freedom  from 
mud ;  or  take  refuge  in  the  wooded  regions  of  Indiana  or  Missouri, 
avoid  the  winds  and  suffer  the  other  evils. 

We  now  turn  to  a  region  more  affected  by  men  from  the  middle  lat- 
itudes. In  many  weeks  travel  between  the  Des  Moines  and  the  Ar- 
kansas, one-fifth  or  more  of  those  I  met  were  from  Ohio,  and  nearly 
all  of  them  had  sought  this  region  since  the  war.  Kansas,  like 
Nebraska,  is  divided  into  northern  and  southern — this  by  the  Kaw, 
that  by  the  Platte.  North-eastern  Kansas  is  already  an  old  country ; 
Doniphan  County  was  pretty  well  settled  twenty  years  ago.  A  hun- 
dred miles  west  of  the  Missouri  land  can  still  be  had  at  reasonable 
rates,  but  I  have  never  visited  that  section.  When  we  come  to 


614  WESTERN  WILDS. 

southern  Kansas  an  inviting  field  indeed  is  open  to  us.  Good  land  is 
cheaper  to-day  than  it  was  five  years  ago.  This  I  happen  to  know 
from  painful  personal  experience.  But  it  don't  follow  that  it  will  be 
cheaper  still  five  years  from  now.  Surely  "  the  bottom  "  is  reached  by 
this  time.  In  the  second  tier  of  counties,  including  Anderson,  Allen, 
Neosho  and  Labette,  the  Leaveuworth,  Lawrence  and  Galveston  Rail- 
road Company  have  large  tracts  of  good  land  for  sale;  and  private 
owners  a  still  larger  amount. 

This  region  boasts  of  many  advantages:  a  mild  climate,  soil  of  rare 
fertility,  timber  sufficient  for  all  ordinary  purposes,  rock  in  abundance, 
and  easy  communication  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Society  is  unsur- 
passed by  that  of  any  section,  east  or  west.  Churches  and  school- 
houses  are  within  convenient  reach  of  every  section  of  land,  and  a 
man  can  not  settle  in  so  wild  a  spot  that  the  mail  will  not  bring  him 
late  papers  at  least  twice  a  week.  For  seven  years  this  region  was 
blessed  with  good  crops;  then  came  the  "bad  year"  of  1874,  when 
drought,  chintz-bugs  and  grasshoppers  in  succession  desolated  the 
land.  In  Allen  County  large  streams  dried  to  beds  of  dust,  the  fish 
literally  parching  on  the  rocks;  and  pools  and  springs  disappeared 
which  the  oldest  inhabitant  had  considered  perennial.  In  1875  nat- 
ure resumed  her  wonted  courses ;  but  the  people  had  been  too  poor  to 
sow  wheat,  and  the  country  remained  in  a  condition  of  general  pov- 
erty. But  such  a  crop  otherwise  I  had  never  seen.  There  were  miles 
on  miles  of  corn-fields,  yielding  from  forty  to  eighty  bushels  per  acre, 
and  for  sale  at  twenty  cents  per  bushel ;  tens  of  thousands  of  tons  of 
hay,  worth  two  dollars  per  ton  in  the  stack ;  potatoes  by  millions,  and 
more  feed  than  the  stock  could  eat.  And  there  was  the  trouble.  The 
people  had  not  a  sufficiently  diversified  industry.  They  had  relied  al- 
most entirely  on  the  sale  of  grain,  and  this  year  there  was  no  sale,  and 
they  remained  poor  despite  their  immense  crops.  I  came  down  from 
the  mountains  on  a  visit  just  after  the  last  grasshoppers  had  left,  and 
a  rural  wag  gave  me  this  dialect  picture  of  his  experience  with  them  : 

"  You  see  I  bought  early  in  '72— give  $2,200  for  240  acres.  Could 
a  bought  the  same  for  half  that  two  years  after;  can  buy  good  land 
right  alongside  o'  mine  now  for  a  V  an  acre.  Been  a  deal  o'  cramp 
in  real  estate  in  this  country.  Well,  nobody  ever  makes  a  crop  the 
first  year  in  a  prairie  country — think  themselves  in  luck  to  get  fences 
built  and  sod  broke.  I  bought  a  hundred  sheep — two  blooded  rams 
and  the  rest  common  ewes — and  put  all  the  rest  of  my  money  in  im- 
provements. Raised  a  little  corn  and  oats  in  1873,  and  put  thirty  acres 
of  the  new  land,  sod  broke  in  1872,  into  wheat,  and  went  to  work  with  a 


WHERE  SHALL    WE   SETTLE?  615 

hurrah  in  1874  to  make  a  God-awful  crop.  Every  thing  come  a  boom- 
ing, and  I  thought  I  had  the  world  in  a  sling.  Corn,  oats,  potatoes 
and  wheat  just  got  up  and  laughed,  they  grew  so  fine.  Thought  I 
never  saw  such  a  country  for  things  to  grow.  Worked  all  the  week, 
and  used  to  set  on  the  fence  Sunday  and  calculate  how  rich  I'd  be. 
Went  out  one  fine  sunny  morning  about  the  first  of  June,  and  thought, 
by  jiminy,  the  whole  ground  was  a  moving.  Ten  million  hoppers  to 
the  square  yard — all  chawin'  away  as  if  the  country  belonged  to  'em. 
Saturday  morning  they  come  into  my  farm  from  a  ridge  just  south  o' 
me — Sunday  noon  there  wasn't  a  green  thing  where  the  corn,  cane  and 
potatoes  had  been.  Job's  luck  wasn't  a  circumstance.  My  corn  lot 
looked  as  if  forty  bands  o'  wild  Arabs  had  fell  onto  it.  Not  a 
smidgeon  left — just  bodaciously  chawed  up  and  spit  out. 

"  Well,  of  course  I  had  the  dumps.  But  I  rallied.  'All  right/ 

says  I;  ( got  wheat  and  tobacco  left  anyhow.'  Professor  P said 

they  wouldn't  eat  tobacco;  but  he's  a  fraud,  sir — a  barefaced  fraud. 
The  hoppers  just  went  up  on  a  ridge  north  of  me  and  shed  their  second 
coats,  and  then  come  back  on  the  tobacco.  They  eat  every  leaf  clean 
to  the  ground,  then  dug  up  the  roots  and  set  on  the  fence  and  cussed 
every  man  that  come  along,  for  a  chaw.  About  that  time  they  got 
wings,  and  sudden  as  could  be  rose  in  the  air  and  went  off  north  a 
whirlin',  like  a  shower  o'  white  and  yellow  paper  bits.  'All  right.' 
says  I ;  l  they've  left  my  wheat  anyhow.'  Singular  enough  they  didn't 
touch  it ;  it  was  on  t'other  side  the  place,  and  out  o'  their  track. 
Well,  I  rallied  again,  and  counted  on  six  hundred  bushels  o'  wheat — 
and  wheat's  the  money  crop  in  this  country.  About  June  the  middle 
I  noticed  all  at  once  that  my  wheat  looked  kind  o'  sick.  Come  to  ex- 
amine, sir,  it  was  completely  lined  with  a  little,  miserable,  black  and 
yellow,  nasty,  smelling  bug.  I  took  some  to  a  man  'at  had  been  here 
ten  years.  'Neighbor,'  says  he,  f  you're  a  goner ;  thems  chintz-bugs, 
and  every  head  o'  that  wheat  that  an't  cut,  '11  be  et  up  in  forty-eight 
hours.'  Well,  it  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  wheat  nothing  like 
ripe;  but  it  was  a  chance,  and  I  got  onto  my  reaper  and  banged  down 
every  hoot  of  it  before  Monday  night.  It  cured  in  the  sun  and  the 
bugs  left  it,  and  out  o'  the  lot  I  got  just  a  hundred  and  forty  bushels 
o'  shrunk-up  stuff.  It  was  a  hundred  and  forty  bushels  more  than 
any  o'  my  neighbors  got.  You  bet  there  was  improved  farms  for  sale 
in  that  neighborhood.  My  sheep  had  done  Avell,  and  that  was  all  I 
was  ahead.  Taking  it  by  and  large,  the  only  sure  crop  is  sheep." 

He  touched  the  right  point  in  the  last  sentence ;  this  is  the  country 
for  stock-growing.  Corn  and  hay  can  -be  produced  so  cheaply  that 


616  WESTERN   WILDS. 

the  cost  of  bringing  a  full-grown  ox  into  market  is  less  than  half  what 
it  would  be  in  Ohio.'  The  best  of  unimproved  land,  near  the  railroad, 
sometimes  sells  as  high  as  twelve  dollars  per  acre;  from  that  it  ranges 
down  to  four.  In  1875  the  surplus  crop  of  the  State  was  worth 
twelve  million  dollars.  The  report  for  that  year  showed  that  the  corn 
raised  in  the  State,  if  shelled  and  put  in  box-cars,  would  have 
loaded  a  train  sixteen  hundred  miles  long ! 

The  Indian  Territory  is  much  talked  of,  but  I  would  not  advise  any 
one  to  go  there  with  a  view  to  permanent  settlement.  Government 
can  not  open  the  land  to  immigration  without  a  shameful  breach  of 
good  faith,  and  for  one,  as  an  humble  citizen,  I  protest  against  it. 
There  is  such  an  abundance  of  good  land  elsewhere  that  we  can  afford 
,to  leave  this  to  the  civilized  Indians  for  the  next  fifty  years.  Then 
their  progress  will  have  been  such  that  they  will  themselves  throw 
it  open  and  invite  white  settlers.  Texas,  just  south  of  it,  offers  a  far 
better  field.  Dallas  is  the  center  of  a  region  two  hundred  miles 
square,  which  offers  great  inducements  to  Northern  men.  The  win- 
ters are  sharp  enough  to  insure  health  and  energy ;  and  the  summers 
are  not,  as  far  as  I  could  observe,  any  hotter  than  in  Minnesota. 
Land  through  all  this  section  can  be  had  at  from  four  to  eight  dollars 
per  acre.  There  are  no  Congressional  lands  in  Texas ;  it  is  all  State 
land.  This  comes  of  the  State  having  been  an  independent  republic 
when  it  came  into  the  Union.  It  reserved  the  ownership  of  all  lands 
within  its  borders,  though  there  are  not  wanting  lawyers  who  assert 
that  the  general  government  might  have  rightfully  taken  those  lands 
from  the  State  after  the  latter  had  seceded. 

Look  out  for  those  beautifully  colored  maps  which  divide  Texas 
into  various  agricultural  sections,  and  locate  the  "  wheat  lands "  away 
up  on  the  heads  of  the  Brazos,  Colorado  and  Red  River.  One  can 
put  in  his  eye  all  the  wheat  they  will  raise  up  there  without  an  ex- 
pansive  and  expensive  system  of  irrigation,  and  it  will  puzzle  them  to 
find  water  to  irrigate  with.  If  half  that  region  is  fit  for  grazing  land 
it  is  the  best  we  can  expect.  Southern  Texas  is  not  very  suitable  for 
Northern  men.  Along  the  gulf  are  immense  areas  of  fine  sugar  and 
cotton  lands,  but  the  climate  is  not  favorable.  Not  that  the  heat  is  so 
great;  but  the  summers  are  long,  the  autumns  dry,  and  the  winters  first 
warm,  moist  and  debilitating,  and  then  very  chilly.  Central  and  north- 
ern Texas  are  free  from  these  disadvantages.  The  immigrant  from  the 
North  must  learn  a  new  system  of  agriculture,  but  that  he  can  easily  do. 

Society  ?  Well,  I  found  it  very  agreeable.  If  there  is  any  special 
hostility  to  Northern  men,  or  Republicans,  I  never  noticed  it.  The 


WHERE  SHALL   WE  SETTLE?  617 

latter  maintain  their  organization,  sometimes  elect  their  candidate,  and 
always  give  him  a  hearty  support,  though  the  State  has  been  Demo- 
cratic since  1872.  Texas  may  fairly  claim  to  be  one  of  the  best  gov- 
erned States  in  the  Union.  Except  on  the  south-western  border  the 
ratio  of  crimes  is  very  small.  In  1873  the  law  against  carrying  con- 
cealed weapons  was  strictly  enforced  in  the  railroad  towns — a  good 
deal  more  than  can  be  said  of  any  town  on  the  Union  or  Kansas  Pa- 
cific Railroads.  It  is  in  the  "cow  counties/'  in  the  extreme  west  and 
south-west,  that  some  lawlessness  still  prevails.  The  law  as  to  con- 
cealed weapons  excepts  those  counties,  it  being  considered  a  necessity 
that  the  vacqueros  should  go  prepared  for  "enterprising  Mexicans" 
and  other  cattle  thieves.  If  you  like  a  wild  country,  that's  the  place 
for  you,  and  if  that  is  not  wild  enough  try  the  Comanche  border. 
There  the  mountainous  spurs  put  out  towards  the  lower  country  and 
cut  it  up  into  numerous  little  valleys.  Down  these  spurs  come  the 
savages,  often  lying  in  ambush  for  days  together  in  the  scrubby  tim- 
ber, watching  the  ranches  below.  And  all  this  time  the  settlers  go 
about  their  usual  work  in  assured  safety,  for  there  is  not  the  slightest 
danger  till  after  the  "  strike."  One  might  walk  within  a  rod  of  the 
hidden  enemy  and  never  be  molested.  The  settlers  see  signs  of 
Indians  about,  but  feel  no  uneasiness ;  but  once  t)ie  raid  is  made,  and 
the  robbers  on  the  run  for  cover,  they  kill  all  they  encounter,  and  even 
slaughter  stock  they  can  not  take  away.  They  can  get  five  or  ten 
miles  more  running  out  of  a  horse  than  can  a  white  man  ;  and  five 
minutes  after  they  leave  him  he  is  so  near  dead  that  he  can  not  be 
forced  to  walk.  When  hard  pressed  they  draw  a  knife,  hastily  make 
a  few  incisions  in  the  animal's  hide  and  rub  in  salt  and  powder.  As 
the  cow-boys  express  it,  "  it  puts  new  life  in  a  hoss." 

But  when  long  immunity  has  made  the  settlers  careless,  there  some- 
times occur  tragedies  which  thrill  the  country  with  horror,  and  are 
told  for  years  by  the  pioneers'  hearth-stone,  or  around  the  camp-fire, 
where  rude  borderers  teach  their  younger  companions  eternal  hatred 
of  all  the  Indian  race.  In  the  year  1850,  a  Mississippian,  named 
Lockhardt,  settled  a  little  farther  up  the  Colorado  than  was  then 
usual  with  families,  but  still  in  a  region  thought  to  be  safe  from 
Comanche  raids;  and,  in  a  few  years,  was  surrounded  with  most  of 
the  comforts  of  his  more  eastern  home.  Wealth  and  good  taste 
united  to  improve  the  wild  beauty  of  nature;  his  house,  elegant  in- 
deed for  the  border,  was  a  temple  of  hospitality ;  his  flocks  and  herds 
ranged  over  the  area  of  a  dukedom ;  his  colored  servants  scarce  knew 
had  a  master,  so  light  was  his  patriarchal  sway ;  and  far  and 


618  WESTERN   WILDS. 

near  the  name  of  'Squire  Lockhardt  was  known  as  that  of  a  natural 
nobleman  and  Texas  gentleman.  The  friendly  Indians  that  passed 
that  way  also  partook  of  his  hospitality,  and  he  made  the  too  common 
mistake  of /  supposing  that  this  would  shield  him  against  the  incur- 
sions of  their  wilder  congeners.  But,  of  all  his  possessions,  none  was 
so  widely  celebrated  as  his  daughter  Minnie.  The  rude  vacqueros 
were  charmed  into  unusual  courtesy  at  sight  of  her;  and,  from  far 
and  near,  young.  Texans  of  more  pretensions  sought  her  society.  On 
the  border,  a  young  woman  of  beauty  and  accomplishments  often  ac- 
quires a  wide-spread  fame  that  would  seem  impossible  to  Eastern  peo- 
ple ;  her  graces  are  recounted  in  such  fervid  rhetoric  that  the  cold 
critic  of  an  older  community  would  think  of  her  as  a  fabulous  being. 
Even  so  the  charms  of  Minnie  Lockhardt  were  sung  in  a  hundred 
camps,  from  the  Trinity  to  the  Colorado. 

Many  other  settlers,  generally  single  men,  and  skillful  frontiersmen, 
had  located  between  Lockhardt  and  the  staked  plain,  and  he  had  long 
ceased  to  think  of  an  Indian  raid  as  even  remotely  possible,  when, 
suddenly  as  lightning  from  a  clear  sky,  the  Indian  war  of  1854-'5 
broke  out;  and,  from  the  settlements  on  the  upper  Rio  Grande,  clear 
around  to  the  Canadian,  the  border  was  in  a  blaze.  The  Utes  and 
Apaches  on  the  west  pressed  the  Mexicans  and  whites,  while  the  Co- 
manches,  from  their  fastnesses,  carried  destruction  far  down  into 
Texas.  The  storm  broke  while  Lockhardt  was  absent  from  home. 
Every  settler  near  him  was  killed;  his  servants  fled  for  their  lives, 
and  his  daughter,  then  but  twenty  years  of  age,  was  carried  into  cap- 
tivity. The  frenzied  father  sent  an  appeal  to  his  fellow-citizens,  and 
it  seemed  that  the  wrhole  Texan  border  was  moved  by  one  common 
impulse.  Every  young  Texan  who  could  supply  himself  with  horse 
and  gun  was  eager  to  assist  in  the  rescue  of  Minnie  Lockhardt ;  and, 
as  soon  as  a  force  of  two  hundred  had  assembled,  the  father  led  them 
towards  the  high  country,  leaving  word  for  the  others  to  follow. 
Striking  the  trail  of  the  Comanches,  the  Texans  followed  as  fast  as 
the  strength  of  their  horses  would  allow,  their  furious  zeal  continually 
aroused  anew  by  the  sights  along  the  way,  where  worn  out  captives 
had  been  ruthlessly  murdered.  Suddenly,  at  daylight,  the  pursuers 
came  upon  the  murderers  in  one  of  those  numerous  cafions  of  upper 
Texas,  where  the  savages  had  thought  themselves  safe. 

Then  ensued  one  of  the  most  desperately  contested  battles  of  the 
Texan  border.  The  Indian  camp  was  set  far  back  in  a  grove  of 
scrubby  timber,  on  all  sides  of  which  rose  sandy  hillocks  and  de- 
tached rocks,  furnishing  admirable  lines  of  defense,  as  well  as  retreat 


WHERE  SHALL    WE  SETTLE?  619 

Again  and  again  did  the  Texans,  led  by  Lockhardt,  penetrate  almost 
to  the  camp,  only  to  be  driven  back ;  and,  on  each  advance,  they  dis 
tinctly  heard  the  voice  of  Minnie  calling  on  them  for  help,  and 
dreaded  lest  their  attack  should  be  the  signal  for  her  death.  But  it 
appears  the  savages  were  bent  on  preserving  their  captive  if  possible. 
A  double  line  of  warriors  surrounded  the  tent  in  which  she  was 
bound;  and  at  last  the  wretched  father,  bleeding  from  a  dozen 
wounds,  was  forced  away  by  his  men,  who  saw  that  the  attack  was 
hopeless.  Having  received  reinforcements,  they  renewed  the  fight 
the  second  day  after,  but  the  Indians  had  also  collected  their  force  • 
and  taken  a  still  stronger  position ;  and  to  the  father,  lying  helpless', 
with  his  wounds,  the  men  at  last  reported  that  the  attack  was  hope- 
less, unless  with  a  force  large  enough  to  surround  the  Comauche 
stronghold  and  reduce  it  by  a  regular  siege. 

Successive  bands  of  Texans  arrived,  and  in  a  few  days  the  father 
again  urged  them  to  the  attack ;  but  the  Indians  had  managed  to  re- 
treat, carrying  Miss  Lockhardt  with  them.  With  thedevilishness  in- 
herent in  the  Comanche  nature,  they  were  all  the  more  determined  to 
keep  her  when  they  saw  the  general  anxiety  of  the  whites  for  her 
recovery.  But  she  proved  a  troublesome  prize.  The  fact  of  her  cap- 
tivity nerved  every 'Texan  to  desperate  measures,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  Indians  were  attacked  at  all  points,  and  forced  back  towards  the 
Pecos.  Then,  as  afterwards  appeared,  the  band  having  possession  of 
Miss  Lockhardt,  sent  her  northward,  and  disposed  of  her  to  the 
Arapahoes.  Convinced  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  great  chief,  by 
the  exertions  made  to  recapture  her,  this  tribe  opened  negotiations 
with  the  commandants  at  Fort  Union  and  Lancaster.  But  before 
any  thing  could  be  accomplished,  the  Utes  and  Apaches  were  raiding 
the  entire  New  Mexican  border,  and  the  captive  girl  in  some  way  was 
transferred  to  the  former  tribe.  Despite  the  awful  hardships  of  a 
winter  among  the  savages  she  survived,  and  in  some  way  managed  to 
make  known  her  existence  to  the  American  commandant  at  Fort 
Massachusetts,  New  Mexico.  About  this  time  the  Territorial  Gov- 
ernor called  out  five  hundred  New  Mexican  volunteers,  who  were  put 
under  command  of  Colonel  Ceran  St.  Vrain ;  and,  joined  by  the 
First  Regiment  of  United  States  Dragoons,  under  Colonel  T.  T. 
Fauntleroy,  the  whole  force  marched  into  the  Indian  country  early  in 
1855.  They  defeated  the  Indians  in  one  general  battle  and  several 
minor  skirmishes,  but  no  trace  of  Miss  Lockhardt  could  be  found. 
The  noted  Kit  Carson  was  then  intrusted  with  the  task  of  settling  with 
the  Utes  and  recovering  all  captives ;  but  other  means  were  at  work. 


620 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


Worn  down  by  his  wounds  and  mental  suffering,  Lockhardt  re- 
turned home  in  despair;  but  another  party  of  determined  men  set  out 
to  find  the  captive  who  had,  as  it  appears,  been  taken  by  the  Arapa- 
hoes  and  Cheyennes  from  the  Utes,  with  whom  they  were  at  war. 
Again  and  again  were  the  whites  almost  successful,  and  as  often  was 


FORT  MASSACHUSETTS,  NEW  MEXICO,  1855. 

the  unfortunate  girl  hurried  away  to  some  more  hidden  fastness,  almost 
before  their  eyes.  The  general  Indian  war  ended,  and  a  nominal 
peace  was  made ;  negotiation  was  again  attempted,  but  the  third  year 
of  her  captivity  came,  and  still  nothing  was  done.  At  length  a  com- 
pany of  the  Texan  Rangers,  having  penetrated  almost  to  the  heart  of 
the  Guadaloupe  Range,  came  suddenly  upon  a  village  of  Comanches, 


WHERE  SHALL    WE  SETTLE?        .  621 

and  despite  the  hurried  flight  of  the  savages,  who  bad  their  own  women 
and  children  with  them,  the  Rangers  saw  among  them  a  captive  white 
woman.  They  charged  desperately  upon  the  savages,  who  fled  in  all 
directions,  but  not  till  one  of  them  had  buried  his  knife  in  the  body  of 
the  girl,  who  was  still  breathing  when  the  Rangers  came  up.  It  was 
Minnie  Lockhardt.  She  was  but  just  able  to  smile,  as  if  to  welcome 
the  Rangers,  then  peacefully  breathed  her  last.  "And,"  said  the 
weather-beaten  frontiersman  who  gave  me  these  facts,  as  he  choked 
down  his  emotions,  "  it  was  a  God's  blessiu'  she  was  dead,  an'  her 
father  never  seen  her."  For  she  had  suffered  the  last  terrible  indig- 
nity savage  malice  could  invent.  As  is  common  when  a  captive 
woman  is  not  taken  by  one  Indian,  she  had  became  the  common  prop- 
erty of  the  band ;  and  loathsome  disease  had  worn  her  to  a  skeleton. 
Heart-broken  and  disfigured,  death  was  to  her  an  unmixed  gain.  Her 
afflicted  father  soon  followed  her  to  the  grave.  The  Lockhardt  place 
is  now  desolate ;  its  dwellings  burned,  its  tenants  gone.  But  the 
chivalry  and  hospitality  of  the  father  are  still  the  theme  of  local  story, 
while  the  beauty  and  sorrowful  fate  of  the  daughter  are  still  told 
around  the  camp-fires  and  hearth-stones  of  Texas,  and  warm  anew  the 
hearts  of  its  sons  to  undying  vengeance  against  the  Comanches. 

Texas  ends  the  list  of  the  border  States  proper.  Observe  that  in  all 
these  States  as  one  goes  west  he  rises  slowly  to  a  higher,  dryer  and 
more  barren  country,  till  at  last,  about  longitude  100°  or  101°  he  en- 
ters on  "  the  area  of  corrugation,"  as  geologists  call  it,  where  barren- 
ness is  the  rule;  and  this  area  includes  all  the  western  border  of  Da- 
kota, Nebraska,  Kansas,  Ocklahoma  and  Texas,  of  eastern  Washing- 
ton, Oregon  and  California,  and  all  of  Montana,  Idaho,  Wyoming, 
Utah,  Colorado,  New  Mexico  and  Arizona.  Let  us  skip  this  region 
of  mountain  and  desert,  and  pass  at  once  to  the  fertile  section  of  the 
Pacific  coast,  lying  west  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas. 

California  ?  Well,  I  should  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  recommend  it  to 
any  man  of  moderate  means.  The  worst  objection  is  the  oppressive 
land  monopoly.  "A  little  ranche  of  twenty  thousand  acres  "  is  a  com- 
mon expression.  A  dozen  men  each  own  a  dukedom — all  but  the  in- 
habitants. They  will  own  them  after  awhile,  unless  this  thing  is 
remedied.  The  beginning  of  this  system  was  in  the  Mexican  grants. 
The  old  Spanish  custom  was  to  grant  a  county  of  land  to  an  impresario, 
on  condition  that  he  should  settle  a  certain  number  of  families  on  it. 
The  Mexicans  continued  the  system  with  some  modifications,  and  in 
due  time  the  inferiors  became  peons  to  the  lord.  These  titles  were 
all  confirmed  by  treaty  when  the  United  States  took  possession,  and 


622  WESTERN  WILDS. 

have  been  sustained  by  the  Supreme  Court.  Again,  when  the  miners 
took  the  country  they  supposed  the  land  to  be  worth  but  little  except 
for  grazing,  and  many  of  them  took  up  claims  and  sold  them  for  a 
trifle  to  speculators,  and  thus  the  best  land  in  California  is  now  held 
in  immense  tracts  by  an  aristocracy.  Of  course  these  men  are  in  fa- 
vor of  "Chinese  cheap  labor,"  and  equally  of  course  the  poorer  whites 
are  unanimously  opposed  to  it.  Some  have  thought  that,  as  our  coun- 
try grew  older,  all  the  lands  would  be  held  in  the  same  way ;  but  it  is 
somewhat  reassuring  to  note  that  there  is  less  land  monopoly  in  Mas- 
sachusetts than  in  Ohio,  and  far  less  in  Ohio  than  in  California.  In 
some  of  the  oldest  States  the  land  is  most  equally  distributed,  thanks 
to  our  wise  laws  of  descent  and  distribution  of  estates ;  and  in  the 
course  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  years  the  attrition  of  a  free  society  will 
wear  out  this  evil  in  California. 

It  is  now  very  difficult  for  one  to  get  a  small  piece  of  land  in  that 
State ;  and  it  would  be  better  for  intending  emigrants  to  organize  in 
some  way,  and  buy  out  a  grant,  of  which  there  are  always  a  few  for  sale. 
There  are  a  few  places — very  few  I  am  afraid — where  the  best  land  is  not 
in  the  hands  of  monopolists,  and  it  is  already  noticeable  that  such  com- 
munities improve  faster  than  others.  But  for  many  years  to  come  Cal- 
ifornia will  continue  to  be  a  land  of  the  beggar  and  the  prince. 

In  Oregon  this  evil  is  not  so  great,  but  still  great  enough.  Land  in 
the  Willamette  Valley  is  not  much  cheaper  than  in  Ohio  and  Indiana, 
and  I  can  not  think  that  enough  is  gained  to  make  it  worth  while  to 
go  so  far.  I  do  not  see  how  a  man,  wife  and  five  children— average 
Western  family — can  get  to  Oregon  comfortably  for  'less  than  five  or 
six  hundred  dollars,  which  amount  would  buy  eighty  acres  of  first- 
class  land  in  Kansas  or  Nebraska,  or  a  hundred  acres  in  Texas ;  and, 
having  got  to  Oregon,  you  must  pay  more  for  land  than  in  the  other 
States  named,  with  a  moral  certainty  that  the  country  will  develop 
more  slowly.  Oregon  began  to  be  settled  by  white  men  as  early  as 
1830;  before  1848  it  contained  10,000  Americans;  its  population  now 
is  about  100,000.  Kansas  was  thrown  open  to  settlement  only  twenty- 
three  years  ago;  it  now  contains  a  population  of  at  least  600,000.  It 
strikes  me  that's  the  sort  of  a  country  to  go  to,  if  you  want  your  future 
to  hurry  up.  But  if  you  like  a  romantic  border  country — one  that 
is  likely  to  stay  border  for  a  long  time — go  to  Oregon.  Oregon 
climate?  Well,  some  people  like  it.  I  don't.  True,  it  is  mild — and 
moist;  but  I  am  just  Yankee  enough  to  prefer  the  cold,  dry  winter  to 
the  warm,  wet,  muggy,  and  muddy.  No  five  months'  rain  for  me,  if 
you  please.  I'd  rather  freeze  than  smother.  In  California  it's  differ- 


WHERE  SHALL    WE  SETTLE?  623 

ent.  There  is  no  more  rain  there  during  the  so-called  "rainy  season" 
than  in  Ohio,  and  half  the  time  not  as  much.  In  fact,  there  never  is 
too  much  rain  in  California,  though  there  is  sometimes  too  little.  The 
summers  in  Oregon  are  delightful  enough — more  pleasant  than  in 
California ;  but,  as  at  present  advised,  I  would  not  recommend  either 
State  to  the  class  of  emigrants  just  now  going  West. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  great  interior,  and  see  if  we  can  pick  out 
any  oases  inviting  to  settlement  between  longitude  100  and  the  Sierra 
Nevadas.  Nevada  is  not  an  agricultural  State  at  all;  and,  for  aught 
we  can  now  see,  never  will  be.  It  contains  98,000  square  miles,  and  less 
good  land  than  three  average  counties  in  Ohio.  It  has  population 
enough  for  one-third  of  a  member  of  Congress ;  but  our  "  paternal " 
government  has  granted  the  State  one  Representative  and  two  Sen- 
ators. Nobody  need  think  of  going  there  to  engage  in  farming.  In 
the  far  distant  future,  when  land  is  in  much  greater  demand  than  now, 
some  way  will  perhaps  be  found  to  redeem  those  arid  tracts.  Trees 
will  be  planted  wherever  they  will  grow ;  the  Australian  eucalyptus 
may  flourish  even  on  the  desert,  and  thus  in  a  few  centuries  a  moister 
atmosphere  be  created.  But  for  the  present  the  population  must  con- 
sist of  capitalists  and  laboring  miners,  and  their  congeners.  And  here 
I  might  indulge  in  wearying  words  on  the  romance  and  hardship  of 
a  miner's  life,  had  I  not  given  him  a  chapter  to  himself.  Strange  it  is 
that  he  should  be  the  most  imaginative  of  men,  with  a  life  of  such 
prosaic  toil ;  but  it  is,  doubtless,  because  his  ways  are  in  a  path,  as  Job 
says,  "which  no  fowl  knoweth,  and  which  the  vulture's  eye  hath  not 
seen :  the  lion's  whelps  have  not  trodden  it,  nor  the  fierce  lion  passed 
by  it"  (Job  xxviii).  And  no  finer,  more  poetical  description  of 
the  silver  miner's  strange  life  under-ground  was  ever  written  than  in 
that  chapter,  taking  Louth's  version :  "  He  putteth  forth  his  hand 
upon  the  rocks,  he  swings  above  the  depths.  He  cutteth  out  water- 
courses through  the  rocks;  and  his  eye  searcheth  for  precious  things. 
He  makes  a  new  way  for  the  floods;  he  goes  in  the  very  stones  of 
darkness,  in  the  shadow  of  death."  The  perils  of  the  prospector 
above  ground  are  equally  great,  but  the  life  has  its  charms  for  all 
that, 

In  Utah  are  still  a  few  unoccupied  plateaus  which  could  be  re- 
deemed by  canals  taken  out  from  some  large  stream.  Bear  River  Val- 
ley contains  some  sixty  thousand  acres  of  fertile  land,  which  might  be 
redeemed  at  moderate  cost  by  a  canal  from  Bear  River.  The  climate 
is  mild,  not  very  hot  in  summer,  and  decidedly  pleasant  in  winter. 
The  Central  Pacific  runs  through  the  valley,  and  the  location  is  ex- 


624 


WESTERN  WILDS. 


cellent  for  a  thriving  colony.  On  the  Sevier  is  a  smaller  valley  of 
the  same  character.  East  of  the  "Wasatch  Range  are  several  beauti- 
ful valleys.  That  of  Ash- 
ley's Fork  contains  land 
enough  for  three  thousand 
farms,  all  of  most  excel- 
lent quality ;  and  it  can  be 
had  for  the  taking.  Late 

o 

in  1873  a  dozen  stock 
ranchers  settled  there,  and 
"have  raised  splendid  crops 
every  year  since.  Be  it 
noted  that  in  no  part  of 
the  temperate  zone  is  fruit 
a  more  certain  crop  than 
in  Utah.  Peaches  never 
fail.  The  Ashley  Valley 
slopes  gently  to  the  south- 
east; suo\v  rarely  lies  on 
more  than  one  night,  and 
all  the  slopes  are  rich  in 
bunch-grass.  Game  is 
abundant  in  the  neighbor- 
ing hills,  and  a  good  road 
can  easily  be  constructed 
to  the  Union  Pacific  at 
B  r  i  d  g  e  r  Station.  The 
Valley  of  Brush  Creek, 
east  of  Ashley,  is  about 
half  as  large  and  equally 
inviting.  In  these  a 
colony  of  ten  thousand 
Americans  might  make 
for  themselves  delightful 


homes. 

Farther  south  are  sev- 
eral   fine    valleys,    none 
quite  so  large  as  the  fore- 
THK  PROSPECTOR'S  PERU,.  going,  b  u  t   very   fertile ; 

and   small   settlements  have  been   made   in  some  of  them.     It  is  to 
be  noted  that  these  valleys  which   open  eastward  from   the  Wasatch 


WHERE  SHALL    WE  SETTLE?  i'/l') 

are  free  from  Mormon  domination,  ami  will  remain  so  if  settled  by 
Gentile  colonies.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  life  would  be  ex- 
ceedingly pleasant  in  one  of  these  alpine  valleys.  The  elevation  is 
about  five  thousand  feet  above  sea-level ;  the  winters  are  mild  ;  the 
summer  air  dry  and  stimulating.  There  is  game  on  the  hills,  and 
trout  in  the  streams;  land  enough  to  produce  grain  for  a  sparse 
population,  and  almost  unlimited  grazing  ground.  But  these  dis- 
tricts will  never  sustain  a  large  population.  Between  each  settled 
valley  and  the  next  there  will  be  a  day's  ride  over  barren  mountain  or 
grassy  hill.  All  that  part  of  Utah  east  of  the  Wasatch  will  never  sus- 
tain a  hundred  thousand  people. 

Wyoming  contains  so  little  farming  land  that  it  is  not  worth  while 
to  discuss  it ;  but  it  is  rich  in  grazing  tracts.  Of  the  98,000  square 
miles  in  this  Territory,  one-half  is  complete  desert;  the  rest  good 
grazing  ground,  with  perhaps  500  sections  of  farming  land,  though  I 
never  saw  the  latter  and  do  not  know  where  it  is  located.  Of  course 
no  one  pre-empts  his  grazing  land  ;  he  merely  takes  up  meadow  land 
when  he  can  get  it  convenient;  and  perhaps  enough  farming  land  for 
a  garden,  if  there  is  so  much  in  the  neighborhood.  One  year  with 
another  the  herder  puts  up  hay  enough  for  three  months'  feeding. 
Sometimes  none  of  it  is  used,  and  then  it  is  on  hand  for  the  next 
winter.  About  half  the  time  the  common  stock  can  go  through  the 
winter  without  hay,  living  on  the  bunch-grass;  but  blooded  stock 
should  be  fed  at  least  two  months  every  winter.  By  the  first  of  May 
stock  can  live  well  on  the  range.  From  that  on,  the  grass  appears  to 
get  more  nourishing  every  day  till  December.  If  the  winter  comes 
on  with  snow,  grass  remains  good  till  the  snow  melts ;  but  rain  takes 
the  sweetness  out  of  it.  It  will  then  sustain  life,  but  stock  lose  flesh 
rapidly  while  living  on  it.  It  requires  a  much  larger  area  for  the 
same  number  of  stock  than  in  a  blue-grass  country,  as  the  grass  makes 
but  one  growth  per  year,  not  renewing  itself  after  being  eaten  off. 
From  all  these  facts  it  will  be  apparent  that  Wyoming  never  can  sus- 
tain a  very  large  population. 

New  Mexico  ?  Well.  J  must  as  candidly  as  may  be  admit  that  I  was 
rather  disgusted  with  it — that  is,  for  any  thing  else  than  mountains  and 
scenery.  Bear  in  mind  that  the  central  portions  of  New  Mexico  are 
really  older  country  than  Ohio.  Santa  Fe  was  founded  a  hundred  and 
fifty  years  before  Cincinnati.  All  the  good  land  in  the  valleys  of  the 
Rio  Grande  and  its  tributaries  was  long  ago  occupied,  and  the  grazing 
lands  of  the  central  section  are  taken  up.  West  of  the  Rio  Grande 

the  country  is  practically  worthless  to  a  man  used  to  the  system  of 
40 


626  WESTERN   WILDS. 

living  in  Ohio.  The  Territory  has  all  the  faults  of  an  old  country, 
and  few  of  its  virtues.  As  a  stock-rancher  you  have  but  two  chances 
of  success.  The  one  adopted  by  most  live  Americans  is  to  go  in  part- 
nership with  one  of  the  nobility.  If  you  have  business  ability  and  a 
partner  who  can  furnish  the  blue  blood,  respectability,  local  prestige 
and  land,  you  may  in  time  become  a  capitalist,  and  marry  ten  or 
twenty  thousand  sheep,  with  an  incumbrance  in  the  shape  of  a  lady 
whose  priest  will  rule  her,  and  her  father  insist  on  an  ante-nuptiaV 
contract  that  the  children  shall  be  reared  in  the  "  Holy  Catholic  faith." 
The  other  plan  is  to  go  with  money  enough  to  buy  a  thousand  sheep 
and  a  herd-right — that  is  to  say,  be  a  capitalist  yourself.  But  do  n't 
think  of  going  to  New  Mexico  to  build  up  a  fortune  by  hard  work. 
The  common  fellows  there  can  work  for  fifty  cents  a  day,  and  live 
on  jerked  mutton  and  fleur. 

If  you  want  to  lead  a  wild  harum-scarum  sort  of  life  for  awhile, 
free  from  social  restraints,  where  chastity  is  not  a  requisite  for  good 
society,  and  morals  in  general  are  somewhat  relaxed,  New  Mexico  is  a 
splendid  place  to  sow  your  wild  oats.  As  to  the  crop  to  be  reaped,  I 
refer  you  to  a  very  ancient  authority.  But  if  you  think  much  of 
yourself,  better  set  up  your  sheep  ranche  in  Colorado  or  Wyoming, 
where  there  is  not  such  an  oppressive  atmosphere  of  genie  fina,  and 
where  the  owner  of  two  sheep  is  still  one  of  the  boys,  and  can  dance 
with  the  daughter  of  the  man  who  owns  a  thousand.  In  south-western 
Arizona  a  progressive  community  has  been  built  up  of  late  years,  and 
though  the  fertile  area  is  small,  there  is  still  room  for  thousands  more. 

O  * 

Colorado  I  have  described  at  some  length  in  a  previous  chapter.  It 
is,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  enlightened  and  progressive  of  all  the  far 
western  communities ;  though  I  doubt  if  it  can  eyer  have  the  popula- 
tion that  Dakota  will  some  day  contain.  Idaho  I  know  very  little 
about,  and  of  Montana  practically  still  less.  But  it  is  universally 
agreed  that  they  are  not  agricultural  Territories.  There  are  valleys 
in  both  which  contain  considerable  good  land,  and  large  grazing 
tracts  ;  but  mining  will  be  the  leading  interest  of  both  for  some  time. 
Taken  as  a  whole,  and  allowing  for  every  possible  improvement  in 
methods  of  farming  and  reclamation  of  desert  lands,  the  whole  vast 
interior,  between  longitude  100  and  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  can  never 
average  one  acre  in  ten  fit  for  the  farmer ;  and  not  more  than  half  the 
rest  is  of  any  value  for  timber  or  grazing. 

And  can  such  a  region  ever  be  filled  by  prosperous  States,  which 
shall  rival  those  of  the  Mississippi  valley?  Never.  All  calculations 
as  to  the  shifting  of  political  power,  made  on  the  basis  of  new  States, 


WHERE  SHALL    WE  SETTLE.  627 


rich  and  populous,  are  sure  to  miscarry.  That  section  has  an  area 
greater  than  that  of  all  the  States  east  of  the  Mississippi ;  but  its  pop- 
ulation fifty  years  hence  will  not  be  greater  than  that  of  Massachu- 
setts. Only  in  the  Senate  will  the  relative  power  of  the  East  and 
West  be  changed  in  the  future;  and  probably  very  little  there.  Col- 
orado was  only  admitted  after  a  ten  years'  struggle.  Nevada  ought  to 
be  set  back  to  a  Territorial  condition  to-day,  if  there  were  any  consti- 
tutional way  of  doing  justice.  The  child  is  not  born  that  will  live  to 
see  her  with  population  enough  for'one  Congressional  district.  Here 
is  a  liberal  estimate  of  the  maximum  population  these  divisions  are 
likely  to  have  in  the  year  1900: 

Colorado,          .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  250,000 

Wyoming,         .  .  .  .  .'  .  .  100,000 

Dakota,  ........  300,000 

Idaho, 100,000 

Washington,      .........  125,000 

Utah, 250,000 

New  Mexico,    .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  150,000 

Montana, 100,000 

Nevada,  ........     75,000 

Arizona, 50,000 

Total, 1,500,000 

Extraordinary  discoveries  may  enable  some  one  of  the  mining  re- 
gions to  get  ahead  of  the  others,  but  the  grand  total  can  not  be  greater 
than  here  set  down ;  and  only  the  most  favorable  contingencies  can 
make  it  so  great.  The  influence  which  this  may  have  upon  our  social 
and  national  life  opens  a  wide  field  for  discussion.  The  good  land  at 
the  disposal  of  our  Government  is  nearly  exhausted.  But  a  few  more 
years  and  there  will  be  no  more  virgin  soil  awaiting  the  immigrant. 
Then  the  half  desert  lands  must  be  won  with  great  toil,  or  we  must 
turn  back  and  fill  up  the  corners  which  have  been  overrun  in  our  rush 
for  the  best  spots.  Our  surplus  population  will  then  have  no  rich 
heritage  to  look  to,  where  a  homestead  can  be  had  for  the  taking. 
The  paternal  farm  in  the  East  must  be  divided  again  and  again,  if  all 
the  boys  are  to  have  a  share.  What  will  be  the  effect  on  our  discon- 
tented classes  ?  Will  it  add  a  new  strain  to  republican  government, 
and  will  the  troubles  which  menace  the  old  world  monarchies  then 
come  upon  us  and  find  us  unprepared  to  treat  them  rightly?  or  is 
there  yet  room  in  the  Eastern  States  for  us  to  grow  harmoniously  for 
another  century?  These  be  momentous  questions. 

Certain  theorists  have  further  troubled  themselves  about  the  silver 
supply ;  and  timid  editors  and  politicians  have  suggested  that  if  more 


628  WESTERN   WILDS. 

bonanzas  are  discovered,  silver  will  soon  be  "  cheap  enough  to  manu- 
facture into  door-hinges."  To  such  I  guarantee  comforting  proofs. 
Let  them  invest  heavily  in  undeveloped  silver  mines,  and  before  they 
get  their  money  back  they  will  be  convinced  that  silver  is  still  a 
precious  metal — hard  to  get  at  and  correspondingly  valuable  when 
got.  One  Ohio  editor  says  :  "  Suppose  they  should  discover  a  mount- 
ain of  silver!"  Suppose  they  should  discover  a  mountain  of  ice- 
cream in  August!  The  one  supposition  is  just  as  reasonable  as  the 
other.  In  fact  the  latter  phenomenon  would  violate  fewer  of  the 
laws  of  nature  than  the  former.  Unchanging  law  decrees  that,  even 
in  the  richest  mineral  region,  there  must  be  many  million  times  as 
much  dead  rock — "  attle,"  "  rubble,"  and  "  country  rock  " — as  silver- 
bearing  rock.  Let  silver  permanently  cheapen  but  5  per  cent.,  and 
two-thirds  of  the  mines  in  the  world  would  cease  to  be  profitable. 

For  another  class  there  is  comfort.  Poet  and  romancer,  as  well 
as  hunter  and  tourist,  have  lamented  that  in  so  short  a  time  the  wild 
West  would  be  a  thing  of  the  past ;  that  soon  all  would  be  tame,  dull 
and  common-place.  Let  them  be  reassured.  The  wild  West  will 
continue  wild  for  centuries.  There  will  be  a  million  square  miles  of 
mountain,  desert,  rock  and  sand,  of  lonely  gorge  and  hidden  glen,  of 
walled  basin,  wind-swept  cafion  and  timbered  hills,  to  invite  the  tour- 
ist, the  sportsman  and  the  lover  of  solitude.  The  mountain  Terri- 
tories will  long  remain  the  abode  of  romance ;  and  "Western  Wilds  " 
will  be  celebrated  in  song  and  story,  while  generation  succeeds  genera- 
tion of  "the  men  who  redeem  them." 


THE    END. 


